The Friends You Raise Your Kids With
There’s something about the friends
You raise your kids with —
The ones to whom you can pass your chubby baby
When you need to comfort an older child,
Or pass the older child to
When you need to nurse a baby.
The ones that know
Who needs peanut butter and who needs grilled cheese.
Who drinks lemonade after school and who drinks milk.
The ones you can text
Can you grab her at 2:50 — I’m stuck at the doctor.
Or I’m stuck behind the train
Or at the grocery store.
Or I’m just stuck.
These are the friends who talk for hours
While the kids play at the park,
While the kids are at dance rehearsals,
While they go to school and learn to be human,
While the kids play sports and grow up.
You can say to these friends
I am worried about this
And I am disappointed about this
And I am so very sad.
Everyone needs friends that invite the whole family over
For paella
Or gumbo
Or to order fajitas
And celebrate New Year’s Eve in pajamas and slippers
And laugh about the lip-syncing fiasco on t.v. as the ball drops and the kids run wild.
There’s something about the friends
You can cry to
And say I’ve totally screwed this up
And I’m not a good mom
And my kids hate me.
And sometimes parenting feels so monotonous and lonely
But I guess it does for you, too.
Those are the friends
You can’t sit beside in a serious gathering
Because one blunder
Or dissonant strum on the guitar
Or foul, terrible smell
Will send you into hysterical laughter
Unbecoming women of a certain life stage.
You have to hang on to those friends
Who love your kids not quite as much as their own
But almost as much.
Who know which child is likely to have hurt feelings
Or lie about misbehaving
Or embellish a story
Or lead the charge for a very bad childhood plan.
The ones at whose house you let your children sleep
Because you trust them
And their people
When you don’t trust very many people at all.
You have stared at their heads in church services
And walked the trails together on retreats
While the kids ran like banshees
Through the piney woods.
You have vacationed together
That time at the beach
And that time in the mountains
And no one batted an eye when the one kid vomited on the living room rug.
And as the kids grow up
You can be honest that damn, this parenting thing is hard
And gets both harder and easier when the kids
Individuate
And separate
And have their own lives and successes
And dogs
And failures.
Life passes on and we grow older, like our children.
And those friends might move away
But you’ll always know
Who can pack a bag for a flight to 49.9 pounds
And who has the best, most jolly laugh
And who can know what you’re saying
Without words —
With a slight rise of the eyebrow across the room.
They are a treasure, these friends,
An extraordinary gift,
And I thank God for them.
Because there’s just something about those friends
You raise your kids with.
Fabulously surviving this thing called parenting … so far
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.