F is for…

..friends. Get your mind out of the damn gutter.

I am so glad for friends. I just got off the phone with one of my closest friends, and I realized that no matter how many years pass between us, she is like a sister to me. I want to get black out drunk with her and cry about the lost years before we take turns puking in a toilet together. Because that’s what best friends do.

Okay, that sounds like a terrible time. But I just really enjoy the fact that I have people like that in my life, the ones that no matter how little we talk, or how far apart we are, I know they would do terrible things to help me if I needed it, and I would too. Unless those terrible things involve Nicholas Cage, then call someone else. Seriously, I would do anything but Nicholas Cage, especially if it involved a marathon of Cage movies while you cry about your dead cat. Bury the bastard and move on, call me when Gone in 60 Seconds is over.

No one cares, Nicholas.

Maybe it’s the fact that I did just get off the phone with my 6th grade best friend, but I am on this kick. It could also be the fact that after I got pregnant, I really learned who is a true friend, and who just liked to watch me get black out drunk and make stupid choices.

Being 18 and pregnant wasn’t easy at all. I lost touch with a lot of people, and a huge part of that is the fact that our lives were becoming so much different. I was settling down, figuring out a plan for Monster, and my nights stopped including Vodka and started integrating bibs and electric breast pump (ughhhh).

But two friends were there, and still are, even if we don’t have much in common or see each other ever. They are like my sisters. If I didn’t have them in my life, even slightly, I think I would have taken this “mothering” duty a lot harder, and regretted it ten times more.

There are times that I think, “What if it would have been different? Where would I be?” and I get down, because as much fun as Monster is, when she is pulling down my pants to see if I need a diaper change, while I am trying to cook dinner and clean the house, and get her some juice, while talking on the phone to my mother and balancing our checkbook – gasp – I get into “don’t you dare tug at my pants one more time child, I swear, or I’ll cut your teddy bear’s head off right now” mode. And no one in the house likes that mood. Especially me.

But then, I realize, if I didn’t have Layla, I would probably have not ever gone to college at all. I wouldn’t have stayed with her father, because I wouldn’t have the drive to suck it up during those hard times. I wouldn’t have the passion I do now to pursue my future, and to pursue a relationship with God, even if it’s one where he probably shakes his head and wishes I would be less vulgar.

And I have those two friends to thank for that. To remind me that even though I don’t get to spend time with them because I made the choice of being a mother over being a teen, they still love me. And damnit, I still love them, 600 miles to the north of me, and 2700 miles to the east. You two should know that you kept me sane throughout some of the hardest times in my life.

I hope other people have friends as great and fucked up as mine :)


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