Hello, I’m Erika! I live in Omaha with my husband and our 3 kiddos, 2 dogs and 1 cat. I have a background in early childhood education, but currently staying at home with my littles. I am a yogi-wanna be, cookie connoisseur and snuggle-aholic. You can find my other blog posts featured on Omaha Moms Blog.
To my friends without kids,
Our friendship began when making friends was easy. We were young and leading incredibly similar lives. Friendship was a huge priority. We saw each other frequently, hung out on the weekends and kept in constant communication of what was going on in each other’s world. Our biggest worries were boyfriend drama and how to cure a hangover. Even though this friendship blossomed over similarities, it became much more than that.
Now, our day to day grinds are a bit different. Your Saturdays are late wake ups, a delicious brunch, reading a good book in the park, an afternoon Netflix surf and spending your day flying by the seat of your pants.
Mine are far from that.
My Saturdays are human alarm clocks greeting me by 7am, a donut drive for a “special” breakfast, reading Llama Llama Red Pajama 8 times in a row, chasing unclothed toddlers and following our tight schedule of who has a soccer game or a birthday party.
I am sure from the outside looking in, it seems overwhelmingly chaotic. Busy schedules, sick kids, doctor visits, PTO meetings, playdates… always on the go. You often say to me “I have no idea how you do it” and on the tough days I think the same thing. I’m not sure how I’m still functioning (AND how the children are still alive.)
Although there are draining moments, there are so many that are fulfilling. The late night snuggles, the rolling-on-the-floor tickle fests, and kissing the boo-boos… all of it makes it worth it. There are times I long for more alone time or just a day to do NOTHING but I’m reminded quickly by the sound of tiny feet running my way, that this is what I love.
I’m sorry I am not there for it all- the birthday celebrations, engagement parties, a Friday afternoon happy hour.
I’m sorry for the times that I am there, but I’m not totally there. I’m busy escorting a toddler to the bathroom, quickly serving dinner plates to prevent meltdowns, sneaking away to nurse a newborn.
Or maybe I did escape the house without a child attached but my mind is still in mom mode. I’m checking my phone often to make sure I’m not needed. I’m lost in thought over how things are going on at home without me. I’m sneaking out a bit early.
I’m sorry I sometimes put the fear in you. From my talks about postpartum mesh underwear, to carseat blowouts, I am sure I have added years in your decision to have children.
I do have one thing to ask of you. Please don’t stop the invites. I know I have declined your offers more than I realize. I, on occasion, leave texts unanswered or cut phone calls short. Please know I want to be there for all of it. I want to know about your big project at work, the really good book you’re reading, or you’re upcoming travel journeys.
The days I am drowning in my children’s tears, slobber, spit up and some other bodily fluids, are the days I am SO ready for a girl’s night full of cozy couches and binge cookie eating. Those times I get to be with you and the girls are rejuvenating. They feed my soul.
Thank you for not letting the great difference in our lives, divide us. Thank you for being my reminder that I am in fact a 30 something year old women who loves red wine, early 2000s rap and laughing until my stomach hurts.
Thank you for giving my identity back when I need it most. For listening to me talk (complain) about the struggles of (no) sleep, my permanent belly bulge and the never-ending touch of little ones. When you may feel helpless with no advice, remember you are the listening ear I need at that very moment.
It takes a village to raise a child and you are indeed part of my village. You love on my kids like family. You are one of the first to arrive at newborn hospital visits. You proudly display their school picture on your refrigerator. You attend every birthday party. I’m sure hanging out with a group of a dozen sugar-dosed 6 year olds is not the highlight of your weekend, nevertheless, you still show up. You’re there with a smile, a hug and usually one of the most obnoxious toys given. (I’m looking at you tub whistle giver… payback is coming.)
I say this whole heartily to you- I couldn’t mom without you.
