Tea party
For quite some time now I couldn’t wait to send you off to a friend’s house to play. Maybe I’ll have a little more time to get things done. Maybe you won’t be so bored all the time. Maybe this summer we won’t want to scream at each other so much. In our current situation, one could only hope, right? We didn’t know anyone. Would they accept us? How do we make you some friends?
Then today it happened. You came home and told me that the lady across the street wanted you to come play with her two daughters. Our new neighbors. This is what I’ve been waiting for! Finally.
Except that after you walked toward their house, I felt lost. And I wondered. Is this how other parents felt when their child grew up and moved out of the house? Is it worse? IT CAN’T BE WORSE THAN THIS! I’m only slightly freaked out about it. Really.
Yet. I also felt proud. The lady came over and asked if it was okay. She said to me, “Every day I look at her and think she’s sooooo cute. I want her to play with my children!” and my heart exploded. Into a million tiny pieces that I’m struggling to find. Someone wanted MY daughter to play with her kids!
Our neighbors are new to this neighborhood. Even more than we are. So maybe they’re as lonely as we are and desperate for some friends. And I know how bad this may sound, but I’m happy. I probably would never have had the guts to go over there myself and try to make friends. I’m a little scared. And shy. Sounds insane, I know. But it’s true.
I worry that someone will think I’m an awful mother. Or that you and your sister are not good enough for their kids. I’m afraid we’ll be rejected by the other families. So imagine my surprise that our neighbors wanted you to be friends with their kids just because YOU’RE CUTE! That’s it? No 20 questions? No interrogation whatsoever?! Really? Awesome!
You said you had a good time and that you liked them. There was a tea party with cookies! They were so nice to you. I’m happy. We might make it through this summer after all. Will you be going there again tomorrow?
And…
Do you think you can bring your little sister with you? Just kidding. Kinda.



It was the first time I ever felt so terrified that I’d lost you and I didn’t know what to do. I waited at the bus stop until every last kid got off the bus. When you didn’t, I panicked. It was only the second day you’ve ridden the bus, so the bus driver had no idea who you or I was. I ran home and hopped in the car to look for you. Heart pounding and tears running down my face.
and gave you the confidence to find your way home. You did. I wish I had your confidence so I could look for her and thank her for helping you. Maybe even give her the biggest bear hug ever. 

Today marks three years we’ve been legally joined at the hip. Three years where I’ve been legally bound to pick up the dirty socks you leave wherever you want and have taught Niki to do as well. I’ve had to listen to you talk about all-things-nerdy and usually having no clue what you’re talking about. Cooking the food you enjoy and then listening to you complain about how you need to lose weight. Make up your mind. Yummy food for your tummy or an all veggie diet! And what about the two insane cats that you insisted on bring home? The same ones that do a number on my anxiety ON A REGULAR BASIS!
bitching and nagging. My almost-monthly breakdowns. Always listening to me say things like “Spend time with me…” and “I’m so pathetic. I need more friends!” without telling me to SHUT THE FUCK UP, WOMAN! YOU ANNOY ME! And I’m sure your list of my craziness is super long even though you refuse to admit to it.
Three years ago we vowed “…’til death do us part or something equally as tragic…” like one of us gaining a few hundred extra pounds. Or sex becomes non-existent. Because you and I both know we can’t live with stuff like that. Events like those call for only two options: death or divorce. We’ve made it three years without having to make that choice. 




