It’s not that I don’t love you anymore, but we just can’t be good friends. Cool? If not, then I just can’t care. I would love to care, but I, legit, just can’t. I have kids.
Like I said, I think you are fantastic, and I Facebook stalk your life, but I just can’t even try to be a part of it.
Here’s what I CAN do… So, LMK.
I Can Call You Once A Month, Maybe, And I Will Definitely Hang Up On You
I can pretty much guarantee that the second you start telling me something really serious, about your health, wealth, or relationship, my kids are going to do something really weird, and I’m going to have to say I’ll call you back. But, I won’t call you back.
Just two days ago, I was on the phone with someone close to me. They were telling me about their divorce proceedings. I genuinely cared, and was completely empathetic. Also, I really wanted to hear the details of how Point A became Point B.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my four year old eating pistachios in the living room.
My Brain (which is no longer registering the phone conversation): How did she reach those? Those were far back on the counter. Did she climb on the counter? That’s so dangerous. I need to reprimand her so she doesn’t pull that stunt while I’m in the shower or upstairs.
My Mouth (not quite knowing what she was saying anymore): Yes, um hmm, really? No way. uh huh. Really? Wow.
My Brain: Is she throwing the shells on the floor?! That is so not okay! OMG. I’m going to make her pick up every single one of those when I hang up. If I remember. I’ll remember. I better, because it is going to suck if the vacuum sucks those up. Who does she think she is anyway? Am I her maid? Am I raising someone who doesn’t mind throwing trash on their own floor?? If so, I’m the worst mother ever.
My Mouth: I’m so sorry, I love you, I gotta go, I’ll buzz you later.
I Will Go Shopping With You… In A Few Years
Shopping (which, as you know me, is a favorite -FAVORITE- favorite past time), is a thing of the past. We can go again when my kids start full time school. In a few years.
Shopping used to be, grab Starbucks, or fill a to-go mug of wine or cocktail, pick up a girlfriend or two, peruse for a few hours, purchase much, then grab a bite to eat.
Shopping now is NOT that. Like, even in the farthest stretches of my imagination, it is SO not that.
Now, it takes me a good hour and a half, AT LEAST, to get the kids out the door. I can’t bring a coffee (let alone alcohol!) because my hands are already way too full, and I am definitely not picking you up. When we go to the store, I need to make the mortal decision: Do I bring them to the toy aisle FIRST, to give them a prize to carry around the store as a distraction? Or: Do I promise them the toy aisle LAST, as a prize for being good the whole time? Either way, I just agreed to cutting MY shopping spree in half because I am buying toys now. Also, the trip is either riddled with, ‘Can you open this nooooow?’ or ‘Are you done yeeeeet? I want the toy aisle!’. Which means I’m too busy to think, let alone try to remember if those pants are going to look good with that blue top you wore that time we went to that club. It’s stressful, and I’m just not feeling it.
Plus, we can pretty much bank on the fact that at some point I will wind up in the public bathroom with multiple children in the same stall, holding a tiny body over the disgusting toilet, praying I wont get peed on.
So, I’m shopping online, with wine, not buying toys, and not wearing pants while I do it, for the next few years. Sorry.
It’s Flat Out Too Much Work To Go Out With You. I Will Like Your Pics Online.
No offense. It’s just not fun. I have to start a week in advance trying to find someone to babysit. Let me throw this out there- I almost couldn’t find a babysitter on my own wedding night.
If I find a sitter, we can assume that whatever amount of money I spend while out with you, I have to hand over another hundo when I get home. Ain’t nobody got time fo dat.
Also, before I leave I have to prepare meals, pajamas, toothbrushes, emergency lists, and baths. So what this means in plain terms, is that by the time you see me, I am too tired to have fun, and I probably look like I am more ready for the grocery store, than the club. I prob threw makeup on, tossed my ratty hair up, and someone has wiped something on me by the time I hit the door.
If my husband stays home with them: nothing changes but the hundo.
If You Make Me Feel Guilty, I Will Shut You Out
I will tell you a secret: I already feel guilty about everything under the sun.
I forgot to clip my kid’s nails before school this morning, I forgot to wash their favorite pajama’s before bedtime, I over slept and didn’t send my husband to work with a lunch this morning, I haven’t watered my plants in so long, I actually forget the last time I did it, my fish tank heater broke two weeks ago and I just add warm water everyday because I forgot to buy one. My list of guilty things is so intense, that unless you are a parent, and honestly even more than that, unless your kids are my age or older; no disrespect, you literally have no idea how riddled with guilt I truly am. So, if you make me feel bad about missing your bday party or your last brunch, I am probably just going to slowly drift away because I can’t handle any more. I’m doing my best, and my kids are way more important than anything in the world. Deal or don’t deal. I can’t care.
I will make you a promise though. If you forgive me for being a horrible friend, then I will forgive you when the time comes (or now). We can be horrible friends together. XO