Friday’s are fast becoming one of my favorite blog days because I’m given a topic. This week, it’s friends. I have 5 minutes to write about the topic given. No more. No less.
I’m not one of those women who calls their husband their best friend. I love the Hubs to the moon and back, but he’s not my best friend. Nor should he be. Being my husband is job enough. In fact, the Hubs frequently laughs at me because he says I have too many best friends.
To that I say bullshit- that’s impossible.
I have the best friends who I’ve known since I was in elementary schools. The girls who’s homes I slept over at, who’s pool we swam in, who’s parents loved me like I was their own and vice versa. These are the girls who I called when I was mortified over my horrible, horrible first french kiss. Who I cried with when we dealt with some of life’s unfairest blows. Who I celebrated milestones like first periods, learning to drive, heartbreaks and graduation with. Girls who taught me how to be a good friend over long distances when we all went away to college. Girls who now, 25 years later, I can still call anytime and it’s like no time at all has past. Girls I celebrate with all the infrequent times we see each other. Girls- now women- who will always hold my heart.
I also have best friends who I’ve made in the past 8 years. Women who’ve watched me turn into a mother. Woman who’ve reassured me that I’m not crazy, nor are my kids. Woman who’ve shown me that there is no such thing as a perfect marriage and that no one really marries Prince Charming. Women who’ve shown me that not marrying the Prince can be just as much fun and worth every minute of the crazy. Women who are helping me raise my kids with their advice, babysitting and love. Women who help keep me sane and refresh my soul every time we’re lucky enough to get together.
Does that sound like too many friends to you?