It's True, What My Mother Said

Oh, what a doozy of a week that one was.

We kicked it off with (more) bad news on The Kid's work front. Fuck.

And I followed that fuckness with a whirlwind of pre-planned back-to-back girly get-togethers. Which was awkward, considering The Kid's sitch, but also AWESOME. Still, you know you've been out too much when you can't stand menus and instead just choose to cover up in blankets on the couch for a movie on Saturday night instead of barhopping with your girl, CarolynOnline.

(Uh, yeah, she was here with me again -- it's a long story -- but let me just tell you: my children call her by her last name now, 'cause they think it's funny and it is, and she and me? We stood above them in their beds while they made her laugh with their sass toward me and she grabbed my hand and waved her free finger: "Go to bed now, Short Drunk People!" and they did.) (So, I love her even more.)

On Friday, we saw our old friends, affectionately known as the Minnesotans. She was my First Friend in the Small Town and we enjoyed a year of very fun, very scary, very lovely times parenting our first baby girls. I admitted I cried sometimes; she admitted she did too. She called me from the pantry one day, where she was eating what? gummy bears? gold fish? She couldn't eat in front of her ever-hungry girl, which I knew and we laughed and laughed and felt okay. Our husbands became instant friends. She liked beer! They were the first people to ever babysit our first daughter: we trusted them that much. It was perfect and I was happy and then? They moved.

They moved home, which made me feel good for them and desperately sad for me. I told my friend when she was leaving -- maybe I wrote it in a letter? maybe I said it to her in real life? -- either way, I told her what my mother had told me: "you will never forget the people you raise your kids with."

My mother is so smart because she is absolutely right. The Minnesotans faces live somewhere in our photo albums but they live better and mostly in our hearts. Our affection for each other: it's more permanent than our photos. It was a precious, delicate time in our lives and we shared it. WE shared it.

And over old photos on Friday, we went way back -- for a short time, to that time -- and then we became old friends eating pizza with (bigger) kids running around. Just two moms, four friends hanging out like always, our lives divided by nothing but geography. Divided by nothing but space. Our hearts? Nothing splits that.

You will never forget the people you raise your children with. Yo.