Unless they’ve been prescribed a heavy dose of Zoloft, most parents can attest to the “fetal-position” moment of new parenthood. It might happen after the first poop-up-the-back diaper blowout, or the first glance at the heinous masses of grime and laundry in the house, or after the baby wakes screaming for the seventh time in one night, baring her gums and demanding food like the little milk vampire that she is. Mark my words, it will happen; you will find yourself in the shower, or on the hallway floor, curled up and begging in desperation for one more hour of sleep, or even just a minute of freedom to cut your scraggly toenails.

This is where “mommy groups” groups enter the picture, because what helps us through the most challenging moments more than community? On the surface, mom groups—or parent groups—look like the perfect antidote to the confusion and exhaustion that comes with having an infant. But in reality, finding the right group can be complicated.

Sarah Hamner, a 35-year-old teacher and mother of two young children, experienced this when she tried to break the ice with a group at an outdoor cafe in Petaluma. Hamner came across the moms as she stopped for her morning coffee, chatting as their kids ran around a play area. After recognizing the mother of one of her daughter’s schoolmates, Hamner, who had a five-month-old and a child entering kindergarten at the time, decided to introduce herself and maybe meet some new friends.

“When I greeted them and tried to make conversation, they just looked at me and gave me a weak smile and went back to their own conversation,” recalls Hamner. After several attempts, when at one point someone turned away from her without responding, she gave up.

“I was, like, I’m out of here, this is the worst,” she recalls. “I just had the experience of being snubbed by other mothers of young children.” She called a friend to tell her had happened and to “affirm that I wasn’t a total loser.”

I have other friends—intelligent, mature people—describe similar encounters with organized “mommy” groups—how they were reduced to feeling like the reject in the junior high lunchroom; how they felt judged, out of place and generally unwelcome. So what is it about these groups that can bring out the worst pack mentality in parents? Or is it just about trying and trying again until you find the right community?

After the birth of her first child seven years ago, Romney Garbo, who lives in Windsor and works in global procurement at Agilent Technologies, found a warm welcome at Kaiser Santa Rosa’s Mommy and Me group. At first, the weekly gathering, which is facilitated by an RN and offers a chance for new moms to ask questions about sleep, food and behavior in a “crowdsourcing” kind of setting, was an opportunity to get out of the house, says Garbo. Eventually, it became a safe space.

“It was a very welcoming place,” she says. “I’ve never felt judgment or fear around topics that I want to discuss. That is so important, because there’s so much self-doubt and fear involved in taking care of a new baby.” She’s maintained friendships from the original group and hasn’t found the need to search out any other parenting groups, other than open play dates and kindergym programs.

Still, the thought of joining a pre-established group can be daunting—especially if you’ve always felt like an outsider on the block or have social anxiety. At the last mommy group I attended, I was more drawn to the two moms talking about where to find the best Moonlight Brewing Company beer than the rest of the discussions, which centered on Giants-themed birthday cakes, solid foods and children’s toys. But when it came down to it, like Sarah Hamner, I regressed to my nerdy middle-school self, skulking in the background and feeling like a weirdo, since nobody was making the effort to talk to me.

But the power of community cannot be underestimated, so it’s important to try and try again to find that tribe, says Jessica Mills, author of My Mother Wears Combat Boots: A Parenting Guide for the Rest of Us. “Taking care of a kid’s physical and emotional needs requires a lot more energy than what one or two people can possibly give,” she adds.

In one chapter of her hybrid memoir/handbook, Mills, former saxophonist in Less Than Jake, Citizen Fish and former Maximum RocknRoll columnist, writes about moving when her daughter was a baby from a well-established community in Gainesville, Fla., to isolation in Miami. She searched high and low for like-minded souls.

“I would go to playgrounds and try to meet people and give them my number and expect them to call me,” says Mills, whose children are now 13 and seven, with a laugh. “I’d wonder why they wouldn’t call, but nobody knew this crazy lady!” Mills started attending La Leche League meetings, where she found a community that could at least help her on her breastfeeding journey. Even that had its limits.

“If you are breastfeeding and go to a La Leche League meeting, you can’t expect to have more in common with these folks except breastfeeding,” she says. “Sometimes that’s not enough commonality to build community.”

Mills recommends starting your own group with people who share common values and ideology. “I think you have a better chance of having some long-term community there, rather than sticking with a group that’s already established but doesn’t feel like a perfect fit,” she explains. And Hamner agrees. She says she’s talked with friends about the whole mommy-group thing: what makes one experience successful and another awful?

“The hand-selected mommy groups, where you have a couple of friends with young children, and then they know someone and you all get together—they already have something to go on,” Hamner says. “That seems like the recipe for success for these groups, while just showing for a park meet-up tends to be more uncomfortable.”

Despite the appeal of home-mashed beet porridge and stitched-by-hand hemp diapers, baby DIY can seem like an impossible dream if you lack two things: time and money. Perhaps if you have a partner working in tech and the ability to stay home and are still not, somehow, passed out in a pool of locally sourced ice cream by the end of your toddler-chasing day, you can be the kind of parent who carves alphabet blocks from reclaimed redwood. But if you’re like many of us, you too often find yourself at the neighborhood Big Box, thinking resentful thoughts about the elitism of homespun yarn and feeling sad and guilty underneath.

But what if doing it yourself for baby not only saved money, but was possible without massive amounts of time? What if we could break down, mathematically, how going Prairie Parent would give you an easier, thriftier life? Mamas and papas of the eco-hipster-poor, we present you with a price comparison chart to guide you through a different—and more egalitarian—kind of DIY.

One can of Gerber pears: $1.74 vs. One pear, split with you: 30 cents

One two-piece Carter’s outfit: $9 vs. One canvas grocery bag with holes cut out for limbs: 99 cents

One bag of ABC blocks: $18.79 vs. Three large rocks: free

One Evenflo entertainment center: $119.99 vs. One drawer full of mixing bowls you already own: free

One Sophie the Giraffe teething ring: $15.99 vs. One stick: free

One trip to the San Francisco Zoo (including parking and gas): $30 vs. One bike ride to Santa Rosa Creek to visit the skunks: free

One small time-out chair, for when she hits the cat: $12.99 vs. Letting her continue to hit the cat and learning a valuable lesson: four band-aids, 10 cents each.

One package of Pampers: $10.99 vs. Hanging out outside: free

Totals: $219.49 vs. $1.69

As a new, young mother in the mid ’90s, I was shocked by how my “open-minded” North Bay community treated me. Strangers, mostly women, repeatedly pulled me aside at Santa Rosa Community Market, the Salvation Army thrift store and even the Health & Harmony Festival. “Oh, my,” they’d begin, “you’re so young! Were you able to finish high school?” And, my personal favorite, “Is the father involved?”

As my daughter finished preschool, I was pregnant again. I also had more tattoos, crazier-colored hair and a different partner. My idea of quality family time included weekend protests at Headwaters Forest, Saturday afternoon prison-reform marches in San Francisco and Sunday mornings cooking with Food Not Bombs. Sure, I used cloth diapers, made almond milk and sent my oldest to a Waldorf school like other linen-clad granola moms in the area, but I was also a young pseudo-anarchist feminist with radical political views, and very few fellow parents that fit into the same misshapen box as me. I felt completely alienated from my supposedly forward-thinking community.

Luckily for myself—and my kids—I found Hip Mama magazine.

“Back in the day, you had your baby, you had your cigarette, you had your little umbrella stroller and you did the best you could,” laughs Hip Mama founder Ariel Gore. “Class diversity or family-structure diversity was just barely visible then. That was one of the key reasons I started the zine.”

Gore first launched Hip Mama as a senior project at Mills College in 1993. A young single mom, Gore became the poster girl and champion of the “alternative” parenting scene through her unapologetic writing about the realities of raising kids outside of the norm. The articles in Hip Mama included personal essays on raising children as an LGBT parent, about parenting children with special needs, about sexuality after parenthood and even tips on how to breastfeed with nipple piercings.

“When I started Hip Mama,” says Gore, “there was Anne Lamott’s book [Operating Instructions], there were feminists’ books, a couple of kind of punky underground zines, like China Martens’ Future Generation. But in terms of an easy forum for single moms or younger moms or urban moms or anybody who didn’t fit in, there were literally three or four places you could access images of nontraditional families, including Roseanne, which was kind of a traditional family but they were working-class, which was a big deal then.”

Twenty years later, Gore is relaunching the print magazine this winter after a brief hiatus and temporary move to Santa Fe, where she cared for her dying mother while raising her second child, Maxito. The magazine, she says, will feature regular columns from Teen Mom NYC blogger Gloria Malone, Rad Dad zine founder Tomas Moniz and the magazine’s new political editor Victoria Law. Gore’s daughter Maia, who’s just weeks away from graduating college, is working on a new logo and other graphics. The new format will also include more food writing, more art, and, as always, it’s sure to contain sharp wit and insight.

Along with Hip Mama, Tomas Moniz of Rad Dad zine is relaunching his seven-year-old publication with a redesign as well.

“I just started a zine for fathers to talk about fathering in meaningful, feminist, anarchist ways. I started the zine I longed to read,” says Moniz. “It started as a place for fathers, but now anyone can write for the zine, and, in fact, in Rad Dad #20, my favorite essay was by a queer man in a relationship with a person who didn’t want kids, so they chose to live communally with a family who has kids. It is so amazing. Everyone needs to hear those stories.”

Moniz says that, like Hip Mama, the new Rad Dad will feature regular columns along with reader submissions, and will include stories on pop culture, race, queer parenting and more.

And between Hip Mama and Rad Dad, parents can rest assured that they are not alone with their weird-ass co-parenting, radical, farmsteading, anarchist, sex-positive, home-schooling (or, God forbid, public schooling), attachment-parenting, activist approaches to child-rearing.

“All of the things I was told would ruin her life, and that I was being selfish for not giving her up for adoption—they did not come to pass,” says Gore. “And kid number two, he’s 17 years younger than Maia, and I’m not that worried about him. I don’t care what y’all think of me. Part of it, I think, is getting older, I guess. But I could not care less.”

When you’re a parent of a small child, every free day is a gigantic looming blank slate that you’ve gotta fill. Wake up, drink coffee, have some cereal, dress the kid . . . then what? You’ve got this little human being that needs to be entertained, but you need not be bored out of your skull.

I can’t claim to be an expert at this, but I do hate sitting around the house, and in the last four years I’ve managed to escape the lure of Hulu or Nickelodeon or whatever to discover plenty of things out in the real world to do with my child that don’t make me want to kill myself. Hence, based on my own experience and geography (I live in downtown Santa Rosa), here’s a rambling run-on list, that’s by no means complete, of how I have managed to fill the long, empty days with a small daughter.

First rule: get around other people. The quickest way is a park. You don’t even have to talk to other parents, just exchange knowing glances and shrugs while the kiddos run around. Once you get to know the area parks, you can target them by mood. If I’m feeling up for activities and socializing, I go to Howarth Park, where there’s a train, a carousel and pony rides. (Don’t forget the boats—small children are allowed, and it’s only $8 an hour for a rowboat.) Often it makes more sense to go to a small area park—mine is MLK Park, near the horse track—which is a good way to meet your neighbors, anyway. Peri Park in Fairfax is dangerously close to Three Twins Ice Cream, and the Superpark in Sebastopol has been a destination on more than a few bike rides.

Bike rides? Yep, a child’s seat is around $130. Do it. I’m amazed at how docile and quiet my daughter is on a bike ride, and the Santa Rosa Creek Trail is nice and flat. (Take it from me: do not try riding up Gold Ridge Road with the extra weight!) Kids, like dogs, love the whirring wind and open scenery as you pedal the day away.

Hiking with a kid can be arduous, but not impossible. I’ve scaled the just-opened Taylor Mountain with my daughter, which was not a great idea; the trail gets steep and is mostly in the open sun. Annadel is a better bet, and I don’t know if it’s legal to swim in Lake Ilsanjo or not so, uh, I didn’t tell you to, OK? In Marin, the Tennessee Valley Trail is the best for kids, because it’s short and wide.

Nightlife? Why not? I’ve brought my daughter to more than a few all-ages shows on special “stay up past your bedtime” nights, where she’s seen everyone from Stevie Wonder to Ceremony to Skrillex. (Those ubiquitous kiddie headphones are cheap.) Outdoor concerts are especially great for kids, and I go to the ones in Juilliard Park and the Cloverdale Plaza, though they happen everywhere. Movies in the Park are a fine bet, in Windsor, San Anselmo or elsewhere, and movie theaters, of course, have a good deal on matinees. I also love buying VHS tapes for a dollar at thrift stores, like Fatty’s Threads, and renting movies from my local video rental spot Video Droid.

Libraries have an incredible selection of DVDs, of course, along with CDs and books, and they’re free to rent—hurrah! Childrens’ reading programs abound at just about any branch—my local branch has been doing ‘Read to a Dog‘ days, weirdly.

Not to instill early-onset consumerism in your child, but window shopping can be a hell of a good time with your kid. I once spent over an hour putting ill-fitting clothes on my daughter in the dressing rooms at Macy’s and taking funny photos. She loved it. Of course, when you have a kid, you will get garbage bags full of hand-me-downs, but if you must buy clothes, Goodwill and other thrift stores have an inventory that’s way more entertaining to kids than a department store in the mall.

Getting familiar with your local independent boutique is key, too—mine are Wee Three and Cupcake—because they’ll have much more personality than the big-box behemoth with the red circle logo. Likewise, hit up your locally owned toy store—mine is the terrific Toy Works—where staff can field your questions and find the right gift.

I made an annual tradition of going to whichever Mexican Circus came to town, though none seems to be coming this year. But the Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa is an excellent day trip, and totally interesting for adults as well. (Time your trip right and across the street at the Redwood Empire Ice Arena, kids can learn to skate with chairs on Sunday and Wednesday mornings.) The Bay Area Discovery Museum in Sausalito offers educational and fun activities for all ages, and Scientopia in Napa also sparks the imagination.

Ever drag your kid to a baseball game? The Giants have the more kid-friendly stadium, with a kids’ baseball diamond, slides and a model cable car, but the A’s have a play area and batting cages, too—plus tickets get as low as $12. We always take BART there.

While it’s still sunny, familiarize yourself with your local community pool. I like Ridgeway in Santa Rosa, but Finley, Mill Valley and Terra Linda are fine options, and they’re inexpensive. That can eat up a few hours right there, as can going to a childrens play at the likes of the Wells Fargo Center, the Marin Theater Co., the Marin Center or at community centers.

Train Town and Safari West are standbys for a reason—they’re excellent places to while away the hours. And if you want to do adult things in Napa while bringing the kids, Sterling Vineyards has a tram ride and juice boxes at the tasting room. If you’re feeling fancy, the Napa Valley Wine Train offers a Family Date Night where kids are free (one per adult), and they’ll watch your kids in a separate car while you dine.

Finally, show me a kid who doesn’t like a jumpy house and I’ll eat my hat. Pay-one-price jumpy house places include PlayLand in Sausalito and Pump It Up in Santa Rosa. Bring a book and relax for an hour or two . . . until it’s cocktail time.