Finding a Village in a Place Where People Come and Go

Living in the DMV, you quickly get used to what feels like a revolving door of people. There’s even a name for it—the “DMV exodus.”

So, I moved to Northern Virginia in 2013 and I made friends - lots. Pre-pandemic and Pre-kids, that was easy. But after I had my kids, that reality hit me in a completely different way.

It felt like everyone I knew was leaving. And having a baby during COVID only magnified that feeling. I had friends, but they weren’t nearby. There was no one to text for a quick coffee, no spontaneous girls night, no easy, everyday connection.

In some ways, I appreciated the quiet. There was no outside noise, no unsolicited advice. But at the same time, that quiet often turned into something heavier—loneliness.

It was around that time that I finally put that feeling into words. I remember telling my close friends in our group chat, almost half-joking but also completely serious, that I was going to go make new mom friends at the library. I’m not entirely sure why I turned it into such a clear goal—but once I said it out loud, it felt like something I had to follow through on.

I remember one day at the library, spotting a mom whose child looked about the same age as mine. I went back and forth in my head before finally walking up to her. After a quick hello, I blurted out, “Do you want to do a playdate sometime?” Complete stranger - have never seen her before. I felt vulnerable but also… I felt proud.

Proud that I had put myself out there. Proud that I had taken a step, even a small one, toward building connection in a season of life that can feel incredibly isolating.

Because the truth is, making friends as a mom—especially in a transient area—is hard.

There were moments when I held onto friendships that didn’t quite fit, simply because I didn’t want to feel alone. And there were weeks, especially when I was working from home full-time, where I realized by Friday that I hadn’t had a single meaningful conversation with another adult.

That kind of isolation stays with you.

And in many ways, it became the foundation for what I eventually built.

When I created SensePlay Studio, I knew I didn’t just want it to be a place for children to play. I wanted it to be a space for parents, too. A space where you wouldn’t have to muster up the courage to make the “awkward brave ask.” A space where connection is already built into the experience.

That’s why we include open play time.

From a purely business perspective, it would make more sense to fill that time with another structured class. But SensePlay Studio was never meant to be just about efficiency—it was meant to be about community.

Because parenthood isn’t meant to be a solo experience. And yet, in a place like the DMV, it can often feel that way.

My hope is that when you walk through our doors, you don’t just find an activity for your child—you find a sense of comfort and belonging. A small but meaningful village waiting for you.

If you’ve ever found yourself making that brave, slightly awkward attempt to connect with another parent… or if you’ve felt the quiet isolation of long days at home, you’re not alone.

And you don’t have to do it alone, either.

There’s always a place for you here.