Hi there non-Mommy friend,
My beautiful friend who drives a car without crumbs, wears eyeliner and foundation and has no idea that translucent Shopkins are the living end in a 6-year-old’s world.
I need to speak to you, ever so frankly.
And let me start by saying giving you the title of “non-Mommy” friend is infuriating. I mean, aren’t you moreover, just my FRIEND?
My point exactly.
Because while there are plenty of polarizing internet rants out there poking fun at the fact that when you act like YOU’RE stressed in your everyday life us moms want to poke your eyes out with a Gerber spoon, I have a whole other rant in mind.
One in which I tell you to not let anyone or anything ever make you think you are less of a woman (or can’t be stressed for that matter) because you’re not a Mom ― for any number of reasons within or beyond your control.
An ode if you will, letting you know how amazeballs myself and other Moms think you are, regardless of the fact that our lives are understandably quite different.
Because I need you to know how much I respect and admire you, and how I’ve thought about the fact that you’ll be my go-to example for my daughter one day when I need to describe to her what a strong, driven, empowering and effective female looks like.
And while I admit, I spend some days ridiculously jealous of the free-time havin’, sleepin’ in late, kid-free Sunday brunchin’ babe you can be most days, I know there are just as many days that you might be jealous of my nightly baby snuggles and boo-boo fixing abilities.
And that’s okay.
Because it’s natural and healthy to recognize the goodness others have, and there’s no crime in thinking the grass is greener on the other side sometimes.
But I also know you’re so much more than those child-free meals and well-rested weekends.
I know you’re so much more than those child-free meals and well-rested weekends.
Because whether you’re not a Mommy because you have other things you want to accomplish before adding that title to your resume, or whether it’s because you have tirelessly tried to be a Mommy and are hitting the nightmare wall of infertility, I think you’re remarkable.
Whether some other medical struggle has kept you from having children, or whether you just haven’t met the right mate to start a family with, I couldn’t respect you more.
Or if God forbid, you just love doing “you” and focusing on your career and adult relationships, and the thought of wiping butts and noses for the rest of your life sounds far less desirable than traveling, late nights out whenever you want, and a sort of spiritual “knowing” of yourself that I lost somewhere between doing an enema on my 5 year old and cleaning my house with baby wipes.....
Well girl. I can’t.
Cause that s*** is just as admirable as me semi-successfully raising a few humans over here.
So when the mass media, society, strangers, and even your mother make you think you’re any less of a woman because you aren’t in the Momhood, let me tell you friend- you are everything us Moms need in this world, and everything our daughters need.
Can we please throw that 'well she doesn’t have kids' sh*t in the garbage right now and realize that we’re all on the same team?
Because you’re the friend that makes me laugh uncontrollably, and the daughter that makes her mother proud beyond words. You’re a kick-ass teacher, or artist, or nurse, or attorney, who is helping people and changing lives every damn day you wake up. You’re an aunt who will make the lives of those adorable nieces and nephews of yours five million times better just for having you in it. You’re the crazy cousin we all want, and the wife or girlfriend who completes some incredibly lucky a** person’s life.
Because non-mommy friend, that title completely sucks.
You’re just my friend, and one of a hundred women that I couldn’t live without.
So can we please throw that “Well she doesn’t have kids” sh*t in the garbage right now and realize that we’re all on the same team?
Because last I checked, we were trying to take over the world, regardless of whether we’re pumping our breasts in a break room or running an international conference call in Yoga pants.
So let’s throw our diaper bags and clutches to the side, and make sure they can hear us roar ladies.
Who runs the world?
Women without labels, that’s who.