To my tribe,
I love you for many reasons. Whether we’ve been friends since 7th grade or a year, your roll in my life and my families is so extremely important. You juggle so many hats and serve as such an important role in our family dynamic.
My friend and confidant. The first role you shared. No matter how we met or how we stay connected today, you are still first and foremost that. Whether our memories started in high school or after the birth of my first born, our friendship is something that keeps me going. I can talk to you about any and everything. You listen to me bitch about my children (yes- every mom does that), you listen to my crazy stories about how so and so pooped on the potty and you never complain. We try to talk about other things, but the conversation usually ends up leading back to my children and you never complain. You keep me up to date on the latest Hollywood and office gossip and happenings that you find on social media. And I tell you about the local mom gossip and you nod and pretend to care. I am thankful you’re in my life.
I am thankful that our friendship can continue throughout the ups and downs of life, and through states of separation. That although our lives are at different stages, we still share commonalities and can still connect.
My children’s other parent. The role you have taken on without ever being asked, without it ever being something expected of you. When we spend time together, you are my extra set of eyes and keep everyone inline when I have my back turned. You know how rules and are never afraid to enforce them. And more importantly, like a parent, you love my children. I see it and yes, occasionally, I’ll cry about it. Why you may ask – because (1) motherhood has turned me into an emotional mess (2) because I am so grateful that not only I have you in my life, but that my children have you in their life. I am thankful that my children get to see this kind of friendship and am hopeful that they find and form one like it.
You didn’t have to stay in my life when I had kids, many haven’t, but you have. You stayed my friend and understood that often I’ll read your text and forget to respond for days. You understand that I don’t always have the funds or time to do something without kids, but when I do I promise to always deliver a good time. You get that sometimes I talk like a crazy person because I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in over five years. You don’t get mad when I rush off the first phone or facetime call we’ve had in some time and don’t call you back like I said I would because I fell asleep putting the kids to bed.
I am sorry if I don’t tell you enough, and I hope this letter speaks to you.