My Best Friend Doesn’t Fit in My “Village”

Search any mom group and you’ll find posts about a “village” or some other name for like-minded parents. Although I’m grateful for my own village, I’m especially glad that there are friends in it who don’t fit such a definition. My best friend, in fact, does not fit this at all.

My best friend doesn’t fit in my “village.”

Ella and I met in August 2005. Our dorm rooms were across from each other, and we shared many of the same music classes. Her dream was to marry and have a big family. I also wanted those things, but school was too expensive to make that my priority. Besides, who has time to find a good Baptist boy when you are supposed to practice piano six hours a day?

Two years later, she had ended an engagement and changed her major. She stood beside me as I married the tall, nerdy guy who sat behind her in Old Testament. Now I’m a homeschooling mom of three. Her spouse is her doctoral work. She has many children, but they change from year to year (she also has two cats, who are a lot more like my four-year-old than I’d have ever imagined). She is a fantastic English teacher, and I couldn’t be prouder of the woman she has become.

Where some mom groups can be competitive, she has no opinion. She doesn’t care how or where I chose to deliver my babies, what kind of baby carrier I used, or how long I breastfed.

She does ask about my mental health, what shows I’m binging, and laughs at my Jane Austen memes.

When we catch up, I feel like a person again. I’m the same dorky, scatter-brained weirdo that I was in college, but I am now also the overwhelmed wife of an overworked “essential employee” who has to figure out daily how to keep tiny humans alive. She sees both sides of me and helps me reconcile the two when I feel like I’m falling apart. Except for my husband, she is the first person I call with any news. I remember clearly calling her in a panic when I found out I was pregnant with my oldest. She was so excited that it helped give me peace about something for which I was completely unprepared. When I fixed my first “big” Thanksgiving meal for my in-laws, she sent me messages every half-hour cheering me on. When I received heartbreaking news about the health of our youngest, she let me sob on the phone. When I write anything, Ella often edits it first to make sure I have not made any ridiculous grammatical errors. I even made her look over this one before I sent it in.

I know she feels similarly. I love hearing her stories from the adventure that is teaching. And like she was there for me when I changed my name, I can’t wait to cheer when she gets that fancy paper that says Doctor.

Our differences allow us to encourage and love each other as individuals.

She isn’t just a teacher, or cat mom, or whatever assumption one makes about an introverted single girl. She’s the one who sprained her ankle dancing down the dormitory hallway. She is the one who tried her darndest to teach me how to not look like Joker when I apply lipstick (without success). She has ALWAYS been there for me. And when she’s feeling a little down about being single, I get to remind her how great it is that she can always finish her morning cup of coffee before it gets cold. I am so very grateful that my best friend doesn’t fit in my “village.”

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