Every other Sunday, I write about the lessons of motherhood, the heartache and the happiness of parenting, and the special circumstances of doing it solo.

But I have a confession to make.

I’m a moms’-club reject.

A rowdy mama.

A bad egg.

I got kicked out of my local moms’ club, an organization that was designed to be a support system for parents and their children. It was created to give women an opportunity to connect with others in their community, so they would feel a sense of friendship and camaraderie. At least, I thought that was the idea.

By now you are probably wondering what sin I committed, what crime I am guilty of, to deserve this swift and mighty dismissal.

Did I put my daughter on my lap and drive down the freeway a la Britney Spears? No.

Did I strap her booster seat to a barstool and order myself a morning mimosa? Negative.

Did I make “no more wire hangers” my new ringtone (which, by the way, is available on Amazon for 99 cents)? Nope, not that either.

Here’s what I did. I missed a playdate — four of them, to be honest.

And, like a bad boyfriend, the club dumped me by e-mail.

“With four no shows and no activity in over a month,” wrote Donna, the chapter’s organizer, “it is safe to say you are not interested in the group anymore.”

Gee, somebody revoke my stretch marks. Please.

In retrospect, I RSVP’d that Angie and I would meet the mommies at the zoo, but we failed to show because I had to study. We also promised to attend a picnic at the park, but I had a paper due and we couldn’t swing it.

Two other playdates interfered with our vacation plans, but apparently there is no vacation from moms club.

This particular parents’ group has 110 members (well, 109 now) and schedules lots of fun get-togethers at local parks, pools and playgrounds. Over the past eight months, Angie and I attended some neat events, including a preschoolers’ hike and a trip to the train museum, and met several lovely ladies.

I joined the club the day after we moved to this city, hoping to explore our new neighborhood and make some friends. The group welcomed us, and we were meeting friendly moms and their children within a few weeks.

Moms’ clubs, like those found on Meetup.com and other websites, are a great way to connect to the community. When I was married and the military moved us to a new town every few years, one of the first things I did after unpacking was find a local moms’ group. They always made me feel welcome, and I have made some lasting friendships over the years.

Unfortunately, I have also been privy to the typical dramatics of moms’ clubs, like the hoopla that inevitably happens when someone brings a sick child to a playdate. Things can get rather cliquey: One kid pushes another kid and, next thing you know, a full production of West Side Story breaks out.

For the most part, I have checked out of those shenanigans. Moms’ clubs are supposed to be supportive, encouraging and perhaps most of all, understanding. I prefer consideration over cattiness. A little tolerance goes a long, long way.

Motherhood is crazy. It’s unpredictable and challenging. Things pop up, plans change and life gets in the way. I get that, but apparently Donna doesn’t.

I’m sure it was annoying for those moms who showed up at the zoo expecting us to attend. Maybe I should have called to let them know we wouldn’t make it and for that, I apologize. But if the inconvenience I caused them was really such a big deal, perhaps they should have let me know after we failed to make the first playdate.

My brief membership in the moms’ club was not without its rewards. Angie and I found a cool hiking spot. We discovered awesome playgrounds. And we made a couple of good friends.

So goodbye, Stepford mommies. And good riddance.

If you need us, Angie and I will be at the zoo.

Wendy Fontaine’s “Party of Two” column appears the first and third Sundays of the month. Her e-mail address is: party2fontaine@gmail.com. Follow Party of Two on Facebook and read her blog at PerseveringParents.com