Dear Old Friend,
Hey! How have you been?
I know it`s been a while since we’ve talked about anything other than the shitty winter weather via Facebook chat, and I`m sorry for that. I sent you some text messages a few weeks back. Did you get them? (I know you got them because you can see when someone has read your messages because of that little sign in the corner….ugh, whatever.) It was the weekend and I felt as though I could consume a whole vineyard worth of wine in one sitting. I had gotten a sudden burst of energy and for a brief millisecond, I thought I might be able to escape the walls of Mommyland and join the living for a few hours. I thought you might be available to help me with that….you know, like old times. I never heard back from you but to be honest, I likely would have bailed in the final hour. Maybe you already knew this and that`s why you didn`t respond. In the end, I opted for a bag of peanut M&M’s and an episode of The Mindy Project….(and it was blissful, for the record.) I just want you to know, I get it. I get why you stopped inviting me out on the weekends with your new friends. I understand why you don`t return my crappy text messages. I totally get why you don`t want to hang out with me and the kid at 11 am on a Sunday….and I want you to know, it`s ok. This palpable drift, it was inevitable, and its ok.
As you’ve come to realize, I am now one of the lamest people you know. I`m a mom….and, newsflash, you are not. This new role I’ve taken on defines me. It seeps into every conversation I ever have. It fills my every thought, in some capacity….and this bores the shit out of you. I get it….but I`m not going to apologize. We used to have some crazy times, you and I. We used to day-drink on a Sunday and dream about what our life would look like in a few years. In between shots, we’d create elaborate stories for who we would become, all the while sun-tanning on rooftops and rejoicing in the freedom of our age. Then, the years passed and life happened and decisions were made, and here we are. You’ve gone one way and I’ve gone in quite the opposite direction. I`m living a different story than the one I envisioned, but it`s my story none-the-less.
I want you to know that deep down, I`m still the same person…..like, really deep down. I still have crazy dreams for what my life will be like in 3 years, but instead of things like “owning a hostel in the south of France” or “travelling through Nepal”, I dream about owning a home with a yard for Davis to play in, or saving up enough money to take a family trip to Mexico. And hey, I`m still up for a day-drink on a rooftop….as long as it`s during naptime and not more than two beers, unless you want to babysit afterwards, which you’ve made clear will NEVER happen.
I know I talk a lot about my kid and that’s likely very annoying to you….but guess what? I’ve really got little else to talk about. I spend 24/7 with this critter so I`m sorry/not sorry if the most exciting thing about my day is the consistency of his poop. So, when our conversation lulls and you ask me what’s new, you better gear up. A literal shitstorm is headed your way. You asked! When I`m not talking about my kid, I`m talking about married life, which I also know makes you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon. I`m a newly wed and a new mom. When you take these two things away, all I have are memories of fun times passed….and that`s just depressing and pointless to talk about at length. I will gladly sit across a bar stool from you and listen to you talk about your job and your vacations and your wild weekends, if it means I can get out of the house for an hour here and there….and also because I know that`s all YOU’VE got going on right now.
You see, you and I are not so different, old friend. We both find the other pretty effing lame these days. You can’t imagine the restrictions on your life with a husband and a child and I can’t imagine a life with very little holding me down after spending so much of my life floating around. You don`t understand the overwhelming, mushy, sloppy feeling of love a mother has for their child which makes them show you every damn picture on their camera of carrot-stained cheeks…and I can’t imagine not having anyone to come home to at the end of a day. I’m not spontaneous or fun like I used to be, because I have more than myself to think about with every shot I take or every dollar I spend. How fun is it to spend $50 on a night out only to spend that night out having an anxiety attack knowing that with the $50 you just spent, you could have bought diapers for a month! FUN TIMES.
I’ve grown a stronger sense of respect for the moms I already know. I’ve found some new friendships with moms who get it. I’ve rekindled some old friendships with people who see the old me, deep down, and don`t mind pulling me out of my mommy-shell a night a month to help me unwind. They endure the picture-sharing and poop stories because they know I just need to warm up (I don`t get out much). I’ve also met some new, non-mommy friends who happen to find my poop stories quite entertaining. Go figure!
So, I guess this is where we leave it. The fork in the road we happened upon was years ago and we’ve been walking our own path for a while, trying from time to time to meet up in the middle. It`s been tough, and awkward to plan and inconvenient for both of us….so I think its time to just get back on our own highways and keep on keeping on.
All the best, old friend….
SideBar: This was originally posted on Tammy’s website, MigukMama.