As kids, friendships can form with just about anyone—even the ones who might pull your hair. I remember watching my son at the playground, proudly introducing himself as “The Blue Dragon” to a couple of girls who, after a snarky comment, dashed away. But my son? He shrugged it off and declared them his friends anyway.
Then came school, where making friends in middle school felt like a game of musical chairs. You had to jump into whatever “clique” was available when the music stopped, just to avoid being left standing—alone at the lunch table. High school? That’s when friendships often came with “boy” attached.
In college, friendships were a mixed bag, often involving friends who might ghost you at a bar if they spotted someone more interesting. You accumulate all sorts of friends throughout life—some closer than others. Eventually, many of us settle down, get married, and have kids, which is what I did. Along the way, I met you.
Over the years, you’ve become my cherished friend, my confidant, and one of the few without kids. Although we share so much and have a wonderfully honest bond, there’s something I’ve never told you: I’m genuinely thrilled you don’t have children.
When I was pregnant alongside some of my friends, I thought we’d formed an unbreakable circle of lifelong friendships for our kids and ourselves. What I didn’t anticipate was that sometimes children just don’t mesh. My son can be a handful and thrives in specific settings, which means there are places I can’t take him when he’s on sensory overload. And let’s not forget the other reality of hanging out with fellow moms: the majority of our conversations center around saggy postpartum bodies and organic baby food. Plus, playdates often get canceled due to sick little ones—germ factories that they are. It seems kids today have busier schedules than most adults; karate lessons, swim classes, and family visits make them feel like mini-celebrities, with moms acting as their agents.
But you? You’re always there, whether it’s for baby showers or birthday parties. On my toughest days, you’re the first person I reach out to. My kids absolutely adore you, and you understand my son like no other. I can share my parenting blunders without fear of judgment, and you’re the one who helps me navigate the chaos.
In many ways, you’re like my trusty clear nail polish. Did you know that clear nail polish can save the day in a pinch? It can stop shoelaces from fraying, keep buttons from popping off, and even prevent runs in stockings. You can seal an envelope, tighten loose screws, and waterproof matches. Basically, you’re a lifesaver—always making my life a little easier and brighter.
We’ve shared countless adventures, and you’ve stood by me during the most daunting journey of all: raising a family. You’ve seen me fall apart, throw in the towel, and even contemplate disappearing for a while. Without your support, my marriage might be a bit rusty, my kids would be the loose screws, and I’d probably be a soggy match.
I truly believe that if you choose to become a mother one day, you’d be fantastic at it. But honestly, right now, I’m just so glad you’re child-free. How could I possibly raise my children without you?