Let me start with: I miss you. Surely, I’ve seen you less these past three years than either of us would like. And if we’re being honest, I don’t know if that’s going to change anytime soon. This mom-life is hard. I can 100 percent say, I had no idea how hard it would be.
1. I look at our pictures from Mexico at least three times a week.
You’ve been on 15 fabulous vacations since that trip, but I hold onto those memories harder than my toddler holds onto the TV remote she’s not allowed to play with. That weekend revitalized me. It made me remember that I’m not just a mom. That I’m a friend and I still look half-decent in a bikini. Thank you for taking all those pictures from flattering angles.
2. I’m so f-ing tired.
All. The. Time. I have such great intentions of calling you. I want to call you. No wait, I want to want to call you. But truth is, when I finally get through the bedtime routine that sucks the last sliver of energy from my being I have literally nothing to offer. Nothing to offer you, my husband or the dog that I may or may not have fed that day.
3. I have a lot of new mom friends.
They haven’t replaced you. No one could ever replace you. They just understand that we’re going to be under the same roof for a full two hours but not actually look each other in the eye. It may take us those same two hours to finish one conversation. I know if I let my guard down for a minute, she’ll catch my 2-year-old mid-trust fall off the couch.
4. Sometimes when I cancel plans because my child is “sick” I’m lying.
I’M SORRY. Please see #2. I’m just so damn tired and the thought of walking a babysitter through the evening routine is the equivalent of completing a decathlon. I fully understand that this makes me a bad friend.
5. I really appreciate the invites to your house, but I most likely won’t accept until the year 2030.
Here’s the thing, everywhere I go I bring two Tasmanian devils with me. I spend the entire car ride strategizing over how long I can keep the baby in her car seat before it’s child cruelty and how to ensure my oldest doesn’t see the potato chips in your pantry. Have you seen what a greasy toddler hand can do to walls? I have in my own home, and it made me die a little inside.
6. After the inaugural first birthday, I’m going to stop inviting you to our kids’ parties.
(Unless you beg me otherwise). When I look back at all I’ve put you through these last three years…baby showers, hospital visits, home-cooked meals, baptisms…I literally can’t bring myself to make you attend a 2-hour circus that may or may not be at an alcohol-friendly location. There is not enough hand sanitizer in the world to ensure you won’t leave with the stomach flu.
7. Sometimes I’m jealous of you.
Your Instagram is one pool party to the next and not the kind that involves constant sunscreen application and a 30-minute search for missing goggles. When I’m finally free to hang out I get a little annoyed that you can’t make it work. In my mind, I need you to drop everything because it may be six months before I can use these three hours of freedom for mimosas vs. doctor’s appointments, teacher meet + greets and playdates. I’m well aware that this mom-entitlement is total BS.
8. Having kids is the single best decision I’ve ever made in my life.
I don’t want to scare you away from creating your own little monsters. They will challenge you. They will break you. But they will love you so hard. You’ll sneak out of their room after bedtime kisses feeling like you’ve failed miserably that day and then you’ll hear, “Night night mommy. I wove you. Muah.” When your time comes, I’ll be there for you in whatever capacity you need me. And I promise to never call your bluff when you cancel our plans because your kid is “sick”.
Memories captured by Brooke Whitney Photography.