An open letter to my friends

To my dear friends:

I love you. Each of you.

I think of you at inopportune times, like while nursing two babies at 3 am. I wonder how your trip went, whether your court case got continued, if the baby’s rash got better. I wonder if your day went well and how you liked your new job. I wonder if you are also up at 3 am with a fussy infant (but I don’t check to find out, in case you’re sleeping soundly along with your babe).

I think of you.

Sometimes I forget what you’ve told me, I know…I don’t remember that you said you’d be out of town next weekend, or that your husband had to travel this week and you’d be on your own for several days with the kids. I forget that you had a conference with the third grade teacher or that you were running auditions all this week. The details we’ve talked about sometimes slip out of the gaps in my mind despite my best efforts to hold them all there.

This doesn’t mean they don’t matter to me. They do. You do…a lot.

One day, things will be less crazy on my end. This day is coming…when I can finish a sentence…when I can look at your eyes while you’re talking to me instead of scanning the room to be sure a baby isn’t about to eat a doorstop she’s just unscrewed from the wall…when I can enjoy a meal with you instead of frantically cutting up food into teensy pieces for my small folk to eat…when we can chat together on a walk instead of constantly policing the tricycling superhero.

When that day comes, I promise I will make it up to you. I will be a good friend to you again, and I’ll be able to reciprocate, to show you how much you matter. I’ll make you a cup of tea and listen while you vent. I’ll meet you for lunch without all of my small ones in tow. I’ll bake some brownies and drop them by your house. I’ll go to New York with you for the weekend.

Until then, please don’t give up on me. I love you. Each of you. And I’m grateful for all the ways you’ve helped me keep myself together over the last year and a half…the Diet Cokes, the loads of laundry, the swept floors, the baby-wrangling, the cheerful, encouraging words. All of it. Especially the Diet Coke.

Thanks for being part of my life.

With all my love,

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