This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!
I came to the realization the other day that my relationship with my kids is similar to that of best friends. Our level of closeness rivals that of Bert and Ernie or Thelma and Louise. I’ll tell you why.
I talk to them more often than anyone else. When I’m constantly answering, “What’s that, mama?” and asking, “Are you ready for lunch?” I easily exceed one million words a day that’s we’ve exchanged. We literally talk about everything: foods we dislike, places we’ve left things, how bad our poops smell, and why we have to wear shoes to go to the playground.
I hold their hands a lot. We just love physical contact. Every time we’re in a parking lot, on a sidewalk, in a store, or crossing a street, we hold hands. We just can’t keep our hands apart.
We’re inseparable. I literally have one of my two best friends by my side all day long. We don’t even go to the bathroom alone! The only time they can bear to be separated from me is when they’re sleeping, and that’s only sometimes.
We know everything about each other. We’ve been in some seriously close situations together. Potty breaks, showers, laughing, crying and sleeping: we’ve done it all together. There are very few things about each other we don’t know. For instance, we can read each others’ moods, get on each others’ nerves, and do the sweetest things for each other, all on purpose.
We love each other a lot, but bicker like an old married couple. We don’t agree on everything, and we’re completely honest about it. I don’t agree when they poop at inconvenient times or refuse to eat their vegetables. They don’t agree when I make them go to bed on time or share their toys. We aren’t afraid to speak our minds. Our family is a safe place, after all.
Having little stooges to share my life with is basically one of the best things I’ve ever decided to do. Now, if they’d just get old enough to swap off driving on our road trips, or pick up the groceries on their way home, we’d be all set.