The Most Friendliest Friends

I have the best friends.

I truly do.

I think of their stories all the time. Times when I ponder a tiny thank-you and feel like I should pass it on, but then I never really do.

I have some old friends. Okay... one old frend. I have Paul.

I remember in high school climbing the divide and sitting for hours (or what seemed like hours in high school) talking about saving the world, about being our true and authentic selves. That's something you can say to Paul. You can talk about being authentic and he looks at you like you mean it.

Paul is my bestest friend, something special, something no one can take away from you. A bestest friend can buy you a present from a second hand store and know you'll see the charm. I have some killer brass candle sticks and a few unfortunate vhs' as proof. A bestest can call you after a month (or three) of not talking, and unload a year's worth of worries and joy...because you are the only one who undersands. A bestest can see right through you...so there's no point in lying.

This is Paul at the Elnora Bar. It's a classy place, very fitting cause Paul's a classy guy.

Paul was the Man of Honour at my wedding. A title he lives out in a way only Paul can. He planned a bridal shower for me. Punch, festive treats, balloons..the whole nine. I know I owe Lisa a huge thanks as well...but I like to tell myself it was all Paul...an enormous act of selfless I'm-gonna-have-to-plan-a-ridiculaous-chick-party-but-it's-worth-it-cause-Christy-is-my-best-friend kind of love.

Thanks Lisa.

Paul.

He walks on water!

I friggin knew it.

Then there's new friends, like Brooklyn. I went to a baby-wearing class when Cohen was a few months old...baby-wearing is very chic these days, and I like to consider myself a cutting-edge mommy. Anyway, I see Brooklyn and the first thing I think is, "Who does she think she is, all showered and bright-eyed?" And then she says, "You look familiar." And I try to think of the last time I showered as I lean my nose to the right to see if I pass the smell test... I don't.

So she remembers that we met at pre-natal yoga and I agree because she looks so pretty and smells so nice I don't want her to leave. Then she gives me her email address on a post-it and I promptly lose it.

Actually I've had it the whole time, hiding in plain sight in my wallet.

So then, weeks later, I agree (like a fool) to sub a Mom & Baby yoga class. I can't find anyone to watch Cohen but I am assured "You'll be fine..just bring him!" So Brooklyn and Altas walk through the door. I thank my brain cells for remembering her and then stumble as I try to convey that I remember her and am happy to see her but I don't recall her name or where we met or how I lost her contact info.

I am such a jerk.

So then Cohen wigs out for one hour and fifteen minutes while I try to teach a yoga class. I even breast-feed him as I walk through the class and try to demonstate Trikonasana. I only cry on the inside and hope they don't complain to the owners that I finished the class early.

After class I sit with Brooklyn and we chat like we've known each other for years. Like old friends catching up. This time I give her my number...much more reliable.

Since then we've spoken via text, email, phone and long walks every week. When I hear the sound of my phone receiving two or three texts in a row, I know it's Brooklyn. She can't fit a message into one page. I'm happy for her uber-texts, always filled with info as to our next adventure. She invented a stroller-cise that puts any boot-camp to shame and is pretty much the best mommy-friend a girl could have.

Atlas and Cohen. Destined to be buddies. Brooklyn and her happy family. Todd , Atlas and Edo.

Camping with our little dudes. I imagine this as the kind of picture our boys will look back at when they're older and say..."Mom, why don't we do cool stuff anymore?"

Super Mom

Put both babies to sleep in a single walk....do-do-do-doop-do-dooooo! Super Mom!

Since we're on the topic of epic mommies...I have to mention Mistie. Not a day goes by that I don't use something she's given me. When Cohen grows out of his pants there's always more sitting in wait. When he was ready to start solid foods I paniced (as only a mom can) over what I needed to have...until I remembered seeing all the needed items in a bag Mistie had given me months prior. All the little things I had never thought about but that a baby surely needs. From socks to spoons to toys that make sounds (and have an off button), I've been set up from the start.

When Cohen was little (so, forever ago and yesterday) she would bring food for my freezer and cuddle my fussing little boy so I could sit and rest. She helped me in a way that (I hope) some other mom helped her...making sure I didn't miss the beauty through the exhaustion. She's like the older sibling that plough's the way so the next can follow more easily in the traveled footsteps. She has a zoo pass and a connection for free-range chicken. The grown-up equivalent of an older friend buying your beer when you're under-age. Not that I ever did that... I just heard that that happened...for other people...never me....

Hi Mom. I love you.

I don't have any picture of Mistie. But I'm sure she has pictures of me. Cause that's what the mom does.

I have more friends than these, and an unending list of people to thank for my lovely life, but I'll stop here today.

Thanks friends.

tin