As children, friendships come easily, often even with those who may not be kind. I recall a day at the park when my son approached two girls, introducing himself as “The Mighty Pirate.” They scoffed and dashed away, but my son insisted they were his friends.
Then school came along, where making friends felt like a game of musical chairs. When the music stopped, you jumped into any “clique” available, hoping to avoid being left standing alone at the lunch table. High school, too, was all about finding friends, especially those with the word “boy” attached.
In college, friendships were plentiful but often fleeting, especially when someone vanished at a bar after meeting someone new—again, usually a boy. Over time, we gather various friends, some close and some distant. Eventually, as we grow older, marry, and start families, we meet people like you.
Throughout the years, you’ve become a cherished friend, one of the few without kids. Our bond is unique, filled with honesty and shared experiences. Yet, there’s something I’ve never expressed to you: I am truly grateful you don’t have children.
When I was expecting, the excitement of sharing the journey with friends who were also pregnant was palpable. It felt like securing lifelong friendships for both me and my child, but the reality is that kids don’t always get along. My son, for instance, can be quite energetic and sometimes struggles in overwhelming environments. Plus, navigating play dates can turn into a logistical nightmare, with sicknesses running rampant among little ones. These days, children have busier schedules than many adults, juggling activities like karate and swim lessons, making them mini celebrities while moms play the role of their agents.
Yet, you are always there—at baby showers and birthday parties alike. When life gets tough, you’re the one I turn to. My children adore you, and your understanding of my son is unparalleled. I can share my parenting blunders without fear of judgment.
In essence, I love you like I love clear nail polish. Did you know it’s a handy item to have on hand? It can stop shoelaces from fraying, prevent buttons from coming off, and even fix window screens. You are my lifesaver, always ready to help me tidy up my chaos. Your presence makes everything easier, and you provide solutions when things go awry.
We’ve shared numerous adventures, and you’ve witnessed me navigate the daunting journey of balancing a husband and children. You’ve seen me break down, feel defeated, and wish to escape. Without you, my marriage would be fraught with issues, and my children would be the inevitable loose screws. Honestly, I would probably be a damp match.
What I want to convey is that you would make an exceptional mother if you choose that path one day. But between us, I just want to say that for now, I’m relieved you’re childfree. How else would I manage raising my children without you?
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In summary, I cherish our friendship and the unique role you play in my life. Your support is invaluable, and I appreciate you more than you know.