Allison continues to be bothered by the existence of this blog. The joy, and support, we find in posting our worst parenting moments is lost on her. We should, instead, have a best.mama.ever. blog where we encourage each other to do better. My sweet naive little girl. Come back to me in 20 years and we'll talk.
She asked me today, after rolling her eyes in disdain of my posting a picture of Ben in his underwear, how we came up with this blog. I told her it was Epiphany's idea. She wanted to put together a worst mama ever blog, and immediately thought I should be a member.
"Uhhhh. That is so rude!" she said. "What kind of friend is that?"
Hee. Hee. A friend that knew I would need the support.
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My best answer for Allison is that our friends love and support us even when we're at our worst. Real friends show up with beer and chocolate-covered espresso beans and help run your garage sale. Real friends know when you invite yourself over to drink their wine that you need to talk. Um, wait, maybe don't say that. Apparently all my friendships are predicated on alcohol.
I wouldn't have understood that when I was a teenager either.
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