Tricia (she of “Kathy is Martha Stewart on crack!” fame) moved with her family to her husband’s hometown in Nebraska last Saturday.
One of the other remaining couples in our little chatting circle at church commented something along the lines of, “Shouldn’t we be wearing black?” at church yesterday.
As Tricia was packing up her son from his last playdate with us, she told me and my husband (with a big smile) that she was happy to know she was a good friend. How did she know this? Because I nearly bit her head off on the phone, she laughed.
Gaaa! This is going to be her last memory of me?!? I apologized repeatedly, and she kept laughing it off.
In my defense, at the time of the phonecall in question, a huge rainstorm was starting and the laundry line was full of almost-dry clothes. The kids and I had just walked in the door from errands (never one of my better times of day). While I was desperately unclipping laundry and being plunked with giant raindrops, Oldest opened the door, letting the gigantic dog come barreling out into the rain and mud, to announce, “… um, Mom? … umm…” What already!?!?! I’m busy out here! … that Youngest had peed on the carpet and was crying. Did she move her little sister onto the linoleum at least? Of course not. Youngest decided to run to the bathroom, leaving a trail of pee across the kitchen, chased by the huge, and now wet, dog.
And then the phone rang.
“Hey, Kathy,” drawled Tricia’s always perky/calm voice.
“HIWHATDOYOUWANT?!?” is what came out.
I answered her question as quickly as possible and got off the phone to go deal with the crises.
Tricia laughed at me as she buckled her son in that afternoon, saying something about me being real, and appreciating that I didn’t put on a false “nice” face. That she loved that she was a good enough friend to get the unvarnished me.
No, you spot a really good friend by finding the one who doesn’t take offense when you’re up to your ears in mini-crises and come across sharper than you’d meant to. Who can laugh at/with you over all your crazy house and gardening projects. Who understands when get-togethers aren’t frequent during busy periods… which is usually… and invites you over to her neighborhood lake anyways. Who likes you as you are, perky or not (I’m not).
I wish her well in Nebraska. I hope she finds some other moms who appreciate high-heeled gladiator sandals and running (not at the same time, of course). I hope the seeds I gave her for love-in-a-mist and Campion roses bloom and spread like crazy. I hope the homemade pizza recipe (my standard kids’ birthday party menu) works beautifully every time.
I hope we all find good friends like this.