My Mom, My Friend

      Growing up, I thought moms were just “moms” - telling you to check your homework, insisting you eat your spinach, making your dentist appointments.  I imagined my grown-up self as someone who would have a small, close-knit circle of female friends.  Women I would spend time with - laughing and crying, women who understood me and would love me anyway.  

   I do have that small circle of friends.  However, my closest friend is my mom.  She is the woman I turn to with parenting questions, career concerns, marital worries, and cooking challenges.  She is the woman who knows when to give me a push, when to give me a hug, and when just to be there and listen.

   I used to think moms weren’t supposed to be friends.  They’re moms; the two seemed mutually exclusive.   Moms set curfews and bedtimes.  Moms say “no” when you want them to say “yes.”  Moms appear to be this whole species that couldn’t possibly understand a teenage daughter’s embarrassments, worries, and fears.  Moms just don’t get it. 

   But now I’ve grown up.  I’m a married woman with a son.  And I see things differently.  My mom always got it; it was me that didn’t get it.

   My good friends are people I can trust, people I know wouldn’t hurt me.  People that share similar values.  People I enjoy spending time with.  My mom is one of those people.