Crockpots, Mrs. Romney, and Lactation
I pose a question today. How do you know the caliber of a friendship? I've been thinking about that lately. I have always considered myself an easy person to get to know. I have quite a few acquaintances, but I have recently come to the conclusion that I have few, very few, people I would consider a "friend." Advice that has stuck with me came from my Daddy. "The world is full of fair-weather friends." I kind of let it go in one ear and out the other when he said it, but I have come to realize in my older (ha ha) age how true that is. Well, while laying in bed, kind of in bed, but mostly hanging off the bed while the boys slept on my pillow, I did some thinking.
Yesterday I had about an hour of the most refreshing and high quality therapy. I met at the Parkway Diner right near my house with my oldest friend, Lana. We don't see each others' face often, but there is no moment, day or night, I would hesitate calling her. We have experienced the rollercoaster of childhood, adolescence, and adulthood together. I heard once, "Childhood is what you spend your whole life trying to overcome." Well, that is true, and Lana and I have been doing that for over a decade together. We take turns unloading, for lack of better terms, crazy drama, on each other. She laughs, I laugh, and we realize that nothing can shock the other. I can't even count the nights I called crying, and loving to hear, "Heather, it's ok. Crazy is not hereditary. Things will be ok."
Lana is a successful OB/RN, and thank goodness for that. Although I never completely convinced her to check my cervix when I was 200 days late with my babies, she still was always there to answer crazy and ridiculous questions.
"No, Heather, women have never carried their babies for an entire year."
"Yes, eggnog is ok when you nurse."
"No, I don't think Charlie has the swine flu."
"No, 98 is not considered a fever."
"I doubt nightmares will negatively affect your baby's development."
"Yes, if you are unconscious I will go to the ER and make sure Brady still nurses."
You know, junk like that. Anyway. Last night I realized that there is NO ONE, I mean NO ONE that would sit at a table with me and, in one single thought, talk about how fake Mitt Romney is, but how gorgeous his wife is, then spout off the recipe for the best Mexican Crockpot Chicken, and then comfort my crazy "dieing while lactating" fears. I loved every minute.
Lana helped me grow up. I am who I am so much because of her. I spent more nights at her house sometimes than mine, and my Mom and Dad considered her a daughter. I could list the memories, but I would miss a million.
