Tag: parenting

adult.friends.

There should be a dating app for adult friendship. Like Tinder but with no inappropriate exchanging of pics. Finding friends as an adult is hard. Harder than hard. Because even if you find a person you really like and want to hang out with, they probably already have a group of awesome friends to work around. Or their kids are in a totally different developmental age than yours, or maybe they don’t even have kids so their idea of a night out is something like, going out for appetizers at 9pm and not getting home until 4am. And how many times can you do that before your husband divorces you?

I don’t want to find out really. My husband’s pretty cool.

So what if you could design an app with different categories such as:

Stay-At-Home Mom (SAHM) looking for other SAHM’s to commiserate with about how to get home-made slime out of my carpet, hair, the dog’s hair, etc. and who also won’t judge me for drinking wine at 10am.

OR:

Full-time Working Mom (FTWM) looking for other FTWM’s to make up after-work meetings with and really go to Happy Hour or Karaoke Night before heading home. Must enjoy singing in the car, fart jokes, and random movie quotes hidden in everyday conversation.

OR:

FTWM looking for crazy-ass single friend who will remind me that I haven’t always been an uptight bitch and can still hang with women a decade younger than me as long as they go out before midnight. (Disclaimer: I probably cannot actually still hang with women a decade younger than me, so this person needs to be cool with having to cart my drunk ass to her car and carrying up my front stairs and leaving me on my porch).

Or you know, other descriptions that other women can probably come up with that are more relevant to their own lives.

Remember when it was easy? Remember when you would just catch sight of someone across the playground wearing green shoes, and you’d run over to them and hit them with a rock and proclaim, “Green is my favorite color! Wanna be my best friend?” and they were just like, “Um yeah, just don’t throw another rock at me, okay?” and then you were best friends?

I miss those days. Adulting is hard. And sorta lonely. Let’s buck the system and make 2018 the friendliest year ever. Now can one of my readers make some sort of Friendship app?

sun.rise.

You know those mornings when you wake up at 5:30am just feeling like you can take on the world? Like you had the best night of sleep ever and when you wake, naturally and pleasantly, with no alarm or dog barking, you feel as if you could float out of bed and conquer the entire day?

But then your daughter comes down the stairs and turns your bathroom light on, so you decide to pretend to sleep a while longer. You hear her flush the toilet and pad up the stairs, back to her room. You wait a reasonable length of time, sure she’s been able to get herself all tucked snuggly back into her bed and fall back to sleep, all the while thinking of the giant mug of hot tea you’re going to make once you get up. All about the emails you’ll return. Hey, you’ll have time to read and send notes back to the writers you owe notes to! You may even have time to do some dishes and laundry.

You laugh your ass off at that last part.

Your husband squeezes you so tight, so sweetly, that you feel like a complete and total bitch when you finally worm your way out of his early-morning grasp and tip-toe your way to the kitchen.

You are so quiet. Fucking ninjas got nothing on you. You don’t even turn a light on. You’re so in tune with the early morning starlight and pending sunrise that you don’t need extra light. All you’re thinking about is caffeine and reading and writing. Hell, you may do a few push-ups and squats while you watch the morning news.

As you’re thinking about all the ways you can optimize your early rising, you turn to go to the living room.

And there, right in front of you, is a white shadow of a girl almost your height, just standing cold and silent and terrifyingly still and you scream and almost shit yourself.

You yell, “JESUS! What the hell are you doing?! You scared the shit out of me?!”

And your daughter just shrugs, flips the kitchen light on, and says, “I was hungry.”

You don’t go back to sleep. You don’t write or read or do fucking anything you were wanting to do. You wonder how she got so damn quiet and if she’s really some old soul just fucking with you.

Then you make some tea, talk to her about a new story idea for her school project, and wait till the sun comes up.