momma friends.

Motherhood has changed so much for me. It’s changed my life. It’s changed my routines. It’s changed my goals. It’s changed my plans. It’s changed it all. And it really isΒ for the best.

Another thing it has changed for me is friendships. And this one is kinda sticky. And it’s even kinda sticky to write about. But it’s there. And it’s a part of my motherhood journey for me. And it should be said. Yo.

I grew up with several close friends, and we’ve been close friends ever since. I was the first out of my childhood friends to have a baby. I had no idea what I was doing. I knew nothing about having a baby and neither did they. So I told them all the gory details about pregnancy, and I secretly longed for them to be pregnant, too, because I was scared. I was scared because I am a hypochondriac and I wanted to know that my random pains were normal. And I was scared because I was afraid I would become ‘mom’ and unintentionally distance myself from my friends.

And then life happened. Babies were born, friends were pregnant, new friends were made, and old friends were distanced.

I found myself making new friends based on a whole new commonality: motherhood. Suddenly, I became completely interested in other moms, and how they got their babies to sleep through the night or what lotion they recommended for baby eczema. I formed a bond among other moms. It didn’t matter their age or place in life. I felt a total, safe connection with them because I knew they ‘got’ it. They understood. ‘Girlfriend time’ melted into ‘play dates’. ‘Going out’ meant to the park or the pool for the kids. And if I had to cancel an appointment or a date because I had no baby sitter, or we had an explosive poop, that was unapologetically fine.

At the same time I was forming bonds with new, wonderful friends, I was losing connections with old wonderful friends, who hadn’t yet had children. It wasn’t intentional in the least bit. In fact, it was far from it. But our lives began going in totally different directions. Our definitions of ‘Friday night out’ were no longer the same. I’m sure there were only so many times they cared to hear about the cost of diapers or PB’s reflux. I really tried hard not to be ‘that mom’. I didn’t want to center our conversations around baby happenings. I tried to make our chats as vanilla as I could. But the truth is, I am a mom now. And my life revolves around my family. I’m not ashamed of that. That’s life for me now, and it’s a good life.

Don’t get me wrong. I still spend time with friends outside of bringing PB with me, but those times are further and fewer between for now. He’s little and my family leads a busy life. I want to spend as much time with him as I can. And I want friends who accept that and who realize that being a mom is who I am now.

For me, I think motherhood helped define friendship for me. It showed me who cares, and who will stick with me through the tears, diapers, and teething. Some of my best childhood friends stood beside me, and I will count them as my lifelong friends. Others did not, and though I’m sad to see us go in different directions, it was probably for the best.

I just really can’t put into words the jump from being childless to becoming a mom. All I can say is that it is so, so different, and changes everything so, so much. I really never thought about the effects of motherhood on friendships until it happened. It’s a big change. A reeeaaaally big change, and the value of having friends who choose to go and grow with you along the journey is immeasurable.

What do you think of the effects of motherhood on friendships? Do you think it’s just easier to be friends with someone who is at the same place in life as you? Moms and those without kids, I’d love to hear your thoughts πŸ™‚

Have a blessed Tuesday πŸ™‚


26 years young.

I turned 26 a few days ago, and among other things, like eating cake, and playing with my new nail gun that I got, I had a bit of a meltdown.

I always get sentimental around my birthday. I don’t know why. I do it at Christmas and New Year’s, too. In fact, back in my awkward high school years, I used to write letters to myself every New Year to open the next New Year.

I know.

Please don’t tell anybody.

Anyway, I’ll sit and reminisce and say to myself, “oh, you’ll never by xyz age again”, and then I will systematically count the years until I reach a milestone age. Like I would always count up the years until I reached 16, then 18, then 21, and then 25.

And then I hit 25. And 26 was next.

So the next milestone age is 30. Who ever sits in their bedroom during their junior year of high school, daydreaming of the day they turn 30?


And then 40. And ohmygosh, 50, and holy cow, how did this happen?

How did life go by this fast? I so vividly remember thinking that 16 would NEVER come and I would be doomed to ride with my mom for the rest of my life. And now, I drive. And there’s a husband beside me, and a carseat in the back.

I am blessed. Beyond blessed, for 26 years of wonderful life. I am so grateful for another year, and another birthday to celebrate, but this one has hit me square in the face. Man, oh man. Time has flown by.

I’m getting older.

I’m barreling towards the thirties. What does that mean for me? Little League? PTA’s? Mini-vans? Mom jeans?

Who knows. It’s unpredictable. I mean, I was sure my 20’s meant I’d getter taller, grow some boobs, and drink coffee. And none of those things have happened to me yet.

So I made a pact with myself. I’d freak out for about 2 days, and then I’d move on, happy to have another year and ready to take on the big 2-6. I mean, age is just a number right? I can still pretend I’m 18, right? No one will notice the stretch marks and gray hair, right? Riiiiiiiight? Hello?

Have a blessed Wednesday πŸ™‚

And, p.s., I’ve missed blogging, and my imaginary friends, too much. I’m trying to get my head above the water and get back on the ball πŸ™‚