I’m a thirty-eight year old mom of two kids. But I have friends of all ages. Some are moms, some are not, some are working moms and some are fur-baby moms who work. And today I’d like to give a shout out to my friends who understand, appreciate, and tolerate me as a thirty-eight year old mom with a part time job no matter what criteria define their own lives.
First of all, as a mom of young children, I savor my friendships with the older moms whose children are grown. They listen sweetly to my frustrations of the day and offer damn good advice. And they are basically always, always right. (Yes, mom, this includes you!)
I also appreciate my working mom friends (and Sis!) We may not have the same routines, but swapping stories, photos, and small victories with our Littles breathes fresh energy into my life.
Then there are the peeps who are not moms. One of them was Alec from Target who befriended me and Sammy when I couldn’t figure out the photo machine to print her birth announcements. Back in the diaper days I frequented Target at least every other week and Alec would always stop to chat or ask how the new car was doing. He probably had no idea, but as a new mom of a non-verbal newborn, that was some much-needed adult interaction!
One of my best friends also lifts my spirits simply from bringing her vivacious energy with her wherever she goes. Just last week I met my friend Katarina for lunch since she was in town for work. Lunch is no big deal; happens every day in some shape or form. But, since she is a working woman, lunch with her is like a stay-at-home-mom’s glimpse into the working world.
With two smart phones in hand, Katarina sits down and glances at the menu even though we both know what she’s going to order. But as the waitress comes over, we have to confer with Katarina’s colleague since he has never eaten at DePalma’s before. Kat steals a glance at her phone while the waitress mentions the specials and then, with a smile and laugh in her voice, scolds, “no phones til lunch is ordered!”
I’m already having a good time in the company of “grown ups” (even though Kat and her work friend, Dale, act like six year olds) and despite my casual uniform of shorts and a T-shirt in sharp contrast to Kat’s chic pantsuit. (Do people use the term pant-suit? I have no idea; I have donated any remnants of any suit-type garment I may have previously owned.)
Talk bounces between acronyms of the Auto Industry which I cannot decipher and kid stories. No apologies are needed for talking too long on any subject but acknowledgements are given for the understanding we have for each other and our various backgrounds. I mean, Kat deserves some major respect after she sat in a car with me and let me pump my breastmilk for twenty minutes before shopping for a Kindle at Best Buy back when Ellie was a baby. And that is what I mean by giving a shout out to my peeps. I’ve got lots and lots of good ones in my life and we are all on our own paths, and I’ve got much respect for the ones like Kat who endure breast pump sessions in exchange for good talks and laughs over a pizza lunch.