It may take a village to raise a child, but it takes a tribe to keep a mom sane.
Villages are great and I hope you have one. Villages include your mom friends, your neighbors that you trust with a spare key, your child’s teacher, a reliable babysitter, families, and those super on top of it definitely not in yesterday’s yoga pants classroom moms that email everyone snack reminders. They are key to the function of a family.
But I am talking about tribes. A mom tribe is a small group of bosom buddies that you can be real with. They are the ones you call when you screamed at your kid and now hate yourself. They will tell you if you look fat, but in a way that makes it sound like the dress’s fault and certainly not the midnight slice of cake you plowed through four times last week. These are the ones that force you to get out of the house and talk to real people because they know even though you hate it you need it. They get you. They call you out on your shit and celebrate your successes like their own.
I have a tribe. Actually a couple. I am blessed with my tribes. To say they are my rock is such a cliched understatement. They are my rock, my safe harbor, my North Star, a spine, brain, and heart existing outside my own body. They have the ability to unleash my inner bitch and set her free to rain holy hell down or to gently rein her in with calming words; more importantly they possess the judgment to know which is needed.
I don’t make friends easily. This is certainly due to the troublesome combination of hating people, being extremely unfiltered and blunt, and preferring my couch to any and all social interaction. My friends joked at my moving out of state party that they were going to have buttons made up that said “give me a second chance”. I joke that the fact that they are my friends is really a huge compliment to them. Not that I am someone so special and thus grace them with my winning personality, but rather that I am so intolerant of most personality quirks that they must truly be the perfect ones.
I have the terrible misfortune to live far away from two of my tribes. I miss them with every fiber of my body. I have awesomely amazing, total potential tribe moms here, but these other gals have years of experience- we have held hands, held each other’s hair back, held each other’s tiny babies. I always tell them I miss them. I often tell them I love them. But I do not tell them one phrase nearly enough; that I am utterly grateful for them.
I miss you. I love you. I am thankful for you.