Mother's Day

Today is Mother’s Day.

And guess who’s up with the baby, and who is sleeping in. Then guess who got yelled at when the baby went in the room and dumped out the file holder filled with important documents? I’ll give you a hint. The files were not mine. So I didn’t do the yelling.

Whatever.

Something similar happened last year, too, so I am not too upset.

I was upset last year. We had a big fight and I left and drove around, then I went home and was taken out for breakfast. Kind of a crappy way to win a breakfast.

Oh well.

I guess I have learned a few things this year. 

Like, sleeping in is overrated when I get up, drink my coffee, and play with the cutest darn baby ever.

Fighting is overrated when really, what’s the point? After all, anger is a hot coal, and the one who holds it gets burned.

My husband is not the perfect man. He is, at times, selfish, grumpy, lazy, smelly, obnoxious and annoying. Guess what? I am all those things sometimes, too. Yes, even smelly... but that one not nearly as often as he is.

When life hands you a pile of cow manure, spread it in your garden and watch the flowers grow.

Happy Mother’s day to all the Mother’s out there. 

Not just the ones who gave birth, but the ones who adopted. 

The ones whose babies were never born, or whose babies left too soon.

To the father’s who step in and become Mothers when there is a need.

To the Mother’s whose babies are furry, or feathery, or scaley.

To the Mother’s who maybe don’t have babies of their own, but take the time to be mothering to someone who needs it.

To my Mother, who is still my best friend.

To my sisters and friends, who share this crazy ride with me.

Happy Mother’s Day.

You are loved.

Even if you don’t get to sleep in. 

Even if you don’t get breakfast on a tray

Or a trip to a spa.

Or they forgot to send a card.

Even if your fur-babies can’t speak the words to remind you that you are appreciated.

Even if you feel you are forgotten, you are not. 

You are amazing.

Best Friends Forever

I have a friend. She’s kind of the bees knees. 

I call her my best friend. 

I use that term, but I kind of hate it. 

Because I have so many friends who, in my opinion, are “the best” for some part of me. The term, if you don't understand what I mean, can cause hurt feelings and questions about love and loyalty. 

But you see, I have several Best Friends.

I have friends that have been a part of me so long I cannot remember a time they weren't. And I have friends that are new in comparison, but feel as if they have always been there.

There are friends that I once called best friends, and somehow lost along the way. 

There are, however, a few that stayed. Through the hard times, and the good times, through the years and miles and relationships and disappointments. These are the friends that never gave up on me, and loved me when I hated myself. 

They are all so different. 

They are all so similar.

They are me, and I am them.

They bring out a part of me that I love, that wouldn't be there if not for them...

In no particular order, meet my best friends....

Victoria is my best friend who became such when we were 8 years old. She’s the friend I played Barbies with, and with whom I laid awake at night planning our weddings, the best friend that was more like a sister. She’s the mature friend, the friend who married her childhood sweetheart and graduated college and is crafty and designs things. She's the best friend who comes to visit and brings things she made with her hands and her heart, and we drink wine and laugh and plan our futures, and she reminds me that even at the age of thirty something, there is still so much future to plan. I thank God for her.

Katie is my best friend that I have known my whole life. She's the friend whose mom worked long hours, so she spent holidays and weekends and vacations with my family. She's the one who had chicken pox at the same time as me, so we got to lay in my moms bed and be miserable and itchy together. She’s the friend that I sometimes competed with She’s the best friend that I bickered and argued with, but somehow 27 years later we can still pick up right where we left a year ago, with bottle of wine and laughter at inside jokes from years ago, that are so funny they still make our sides hurt. I thank God for her.

Jennifer is my best friend that is so close to selfless, I sometimes think she’s an angel. If Jennifer has ever done anything that puts her before someone else, I don’t know about it. She’s a mom to everyone, a caretaker, a worrier, a birthday remember, and the one who will fly across country with her baby and mother in law to come to your last minute wedding. She is the friend that calls to tell you about births, and deaths, and the one that keeps all of us connected. I thank God for her.

Jackie and Crystal are my best friends that lived down the street from me from age 9 until I left California. They are the best friends that I speak of when I say a had the happy childhood everyone dreams of. They are the friends I camped in the yard with, the friends I played in the street outside our houses until late in the night with, the friends that threatened to hurt those who hurt me, and the friends I knew I could call when the going got tough. I thank God for them.

April is my friend that I rarely speak to anymore, but I think of often. She was the first best friend of my adolescence. The first best friend that came to me after childhood, as we moved into teenage years. She is the friend that I almost lost to rebelliousness, but somehow, some way, we found each other years later. Though we only speak a few times a year, I always carry her in my heart. I thank God for her. 

Christy is the friend that lives 3 hours away, but we speak almost daily. We met because we both love the same things, and we stayed friends because we realized we are similar people. She makes me laugh, she lets me vent, and I never have to worry about what I say to her. I know she will always love me anyway. I thanks God for her.

Jeanne is my best friend in adulthood. She is the friend that has kids the same age as mine, who has been married and who has moved around, and somehow we found each other. Her kids have known me most of their lives, and mine have known her. She is my  best friend I can dress up with for a grown up night out, or lay in pajamas and watch kid movies all day, while the children make their childhood memories. I thank God for her.

I call these women my Best Friend. I call them that to each other, and to themselves. I call them that not because I love one best, or more, but because each of them brings a part of me that I think is the best part of me for some reason o another.

In a world where people say that true friends are hard to find, I say no they are not. 

You just have to know where to look. And it’s not just about looking outside yourself. You have to look within yourself, to find the best parts of you. 

Then, you find the friends that bring out the best.

And you hold on to them so tight, you can never let go.

That’s a best friend.