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Guest Post

The Case for Mixing Business and Friendship

I’m happy to introduce a guest post by one of my oldest and dearest college friends, Elura, who was also a contributor for The HerStories Project book published in December. From the day that I met her freshman year I’ve continued to be impressed by Elura’s “take charge” attitude, loyalty, and sense of humor. She is one funny woman. She’s a true friend — someone that you know will always have your back. And, of course, she’s my only friend that has her own reality show on OWN, Oprah’s network, and the only one that I’m likely to see arguing with other guests on cable television when I’m at the gym. Here’s Elura’s take on a subject dear to both Stephanie’s and my hearts: friends as business partners. -Jessica

People love to give unsolicited advice, particularly when the subject of that advice is something about which they know almost nothing. I’ve had literally hundreds of people tell me that they’d “never go into business with a friend” — when the truth is that most of those folks would never go into business, period. But there seems to be an almost unspoken wisdom about the idea that one should never mix girlfriendship with one’s career. I’m here to tell you that that “wisdom” is not only a load of crap, but is also evidence of the remaining gender gap in the workplace.

First, I’d like to explore the utter lack of truth of the assumption that friendship is some kind of handicap for entrepreneurship. Starting a business — whether that business is a law firm, a medical practice, a bookstore, a cupcake truck or a lemonade stand — is an exciting, frightening, risky, and potentially rewarding undertaking. It will be draining, emotional, and confusing at times. Hopefully, it will also be a rewarding source of emotional and financial pride. So why on earth would we avoid sharing those things with someone who has already been vetted for compatibility and loyalty? Yes, I’ve heard the logic that when the business fails, it’ll affect the friendship. Or that when the friendship fails, it’ll affect the business.

But are we really going through life with this kind of uberdefeatist attitude? What about The Secret and the law of attraction and all that Oprahworthy mindset stuff? Let me tell it to you straight: if you are starting a business already planning for its failure, then your business is going to fail, and it’s not because you picked the wrong partner. The same goes for a friendship. I certainly don’t suggest that you pick a friend at random with whom to begin a venture. But if you have a friend with whom you work well, share values, and enjoy creating plans, don’t reject the one person who might make a fabulous co-CEO, just because you heard an idiom that seemed to prohibit working with a friend.

And while we’re on the subject, let’s take a minute to recognize that no one would ever tell a man not to go into business with a “contact” he has because the two of them like to go fishing together. When talking about business, men tend to call their friends “associates” or “contacts” — but let’s not allow their imprecise use of language obscure the truth. When men spend enjoyable time together talking, drinking, hunting, golfing, etc. — they are “friends.” When those same men collaborate in a business venture, they have, in fact, “gone into business with a friend.”

So I invite all of you to join me in taking pride in trusting my own friendships enough to share a bank account with the same person with whom I can share shoes. After all, isn’t the ultimate success that which you share with someone you love?

Elura Nanos, Esq, has owned a business with her best friend, Michele Sileo, Esq., for over a decade. Together, the two have founded an award-winning business, co-authored three books, and landed their own reality series Staten Island Law. Elura and Michele regularly give keynote speeches and do television appearances together.

Follow them both on Twitter: @elurananos @michelesileo1

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When Friendships and Book Clubs Do Not Mix

This week we’re thrilled to publish a guest post by HerStories Project contributor Nina Badzin. Lots of women are enthusiastic members of their book clubs, but it’s also true that not every woman is looking for the same thing when she joins one. Have you ever been a “mismatch” with a book club that you’ve joined? Read Nina’s experience with trying to combine friendship and book clubs:

I always wanted to be part of a book club.

My initial desire started young when I observed my mom’s enthusiastic participation in one. However, I didn’t realize as a kid that my mom and her fellow book club members were brought together through a shared love of reading and nothing more. They were certainly very friendly on account of the book club, but they didn’t create the book club because they were close friends. The difference is significant, which took several failed book clubs for me to understand.

I started my first book club in the summer of 2000. I was twenty-three and had recently moved to Minneapolis where I knew my husband’s (then fiance’s) family and not another soul. In my fantasy of young almost-married life, I had to be part of a book club. Aside from the model of my mom’s club, I also had Oprah. The summer of 2000 was the heyday of Oprah’s book club. People were reading the same books all over the country, discussing them in cozy groups while sipping wine in well-designed living rooms. I wanted in! More than anything though, I wanted to make friends.

I created a book club as soon as I’d made two friends, and they invited others they knew. I remember not liking some of the novels we chose, but like my mother, I always finished so I could participate. My frustration when others didn’t finish or when we didn’t really discuss the book was palpable. Let’s just say I wasn’t the most popular woman in the group and instead of making new friends, I made people mad. Eventually I quit, which made me look like a snob (according to the unsolicited feedback that came back to me later). The experience was a disaster both from a book lover’s point of view, and as someone trying to make new friends in a new city.

I tried another group with some different friends the next year, but the same thing happened. We’d rarely discuss the book because not everyone had read it. Now before you think I’m completely anti-social, let me say that I do love hearing about everyone’s lives, catching up, and simply hanging out. But I longed for a book club where the women wanted to talk about the books. I mean really discuss them–like speaking over each other and having to eventually cut off the conversation when it gets too late kind of discussing. I was also a ninth grade English teacher then, which meant I already spent time forcing a discussion about a book as a job. I didn’t want to do that in my free time too!

Fast forward a few years. A friend of mine invited me into a book club with some women she’d known in high school. This book club didn’t work out for me either because those of us who read the book weren’t supposed to “ruin” the ending for the others. When I accidentally broke that rule, the group’s unofficial leader sent a scathing email to the entire group reminding us how “unfair” it was to spoil the ending. Any book lover will understand why I left that group immediately. I also realized that I didn’t want to be in a book club with a group of old friends–my friends or anyone’s.

Since then I’d been invited into other groups, but I’d always decline. In a smaller community like Minneapolis, I didn’t think I could afford to make any more bad impressions with people based on my desires to discuss the dang book.

However, two neighbors I was friendly with insisted many times that I try the neighborhood club. They promised that everyone in the group was an enthusiastic participator. And they were right! I’ve been in that group for two years now, and I finally found the club where I belong. The women range in age from 35 to 65, which helps keep conversation from lingering too long on subjects like potty training or even college visits. We are all at different points in our lives and come from a variety of backgrounds, but what we all have in common in any particular month is the book we read. Our differences bring layers to the discussion and bring up issues from the book that hadn’t occurred to me on my own.

As for friendship, of course after two years we’ve developed a friendliness above and beyond “fellow book club member.” I was incredibly touched when some of the women from the group carpooled to see me in the Listen to Your Mother show last year. And when an interesting author comes to town we have tried to make an outing of that, too. We’ve arranged for author visits as well either in person or via Skype. I must say it’s the perfect book club (for me) made even more wonderful by each host living no more than five minutes from my house. Luckily this book club saga had a happy ending!

Have you been able to create a successful book club with close friends or has your experience been more like mine?

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The HerStories Project: More Than Just a Book About Friendship

We’re honored to introduce a guest post one of our HerStories contributors, Julie Burton of Unscripted Mom!

Julie and her lifelong friends, Dina and Laura

The Community Established

It has been over a month since the release of Jessica Smock and Stephanie Sprenger’s book The Her Stories Project. The most striking aspect of being a part of this project is how Jessica and Stephanie not only skillfully compiled and published the book but that they worked/and continue working to create a strong, supportive community amongst the 50 contributors. It truly has been an honor to be a part of this amazing community of women writers. Although I have been a writer for most of my adult life, I was a bit late to the mommy blogging party that began several years ago, and really took off when blogs like Scary Mommy went viral. My blog will celebrate its first birthday in March.

I always found my writing career to be somewhat lonely. Until recently, I didn’t have any writer friends to speak of. Also, I am a gen-X-er and not a gen-Y-er, so I also didn’t fully “get” how to use social media to connect with like-minded writers. But then, last year, local writer and fellow contributor Nina Badzin appeared in my life (which is a friendship story in its own right), and she taught me “blogging and tweeting 101” (she really should offer an on-line course). She also introduced me to Jessica, Stephanie, and many other great writers and witty, engaging and inspiring mom bloggers. I am extremely grateful for the strength and connectedness I have found in this community, and how Jessica and Stephanie made sure that as they wove the essays together in their book, they also linked together the women behind the words.

Essential Lessons Learned

As I mother my four children and help guide them through the ups and downs of their friendships, I am continually reminded of how important friendships are, and how even at my age, some friendships can still be tricky to navigate. The essays in The Her Stories Project explore the beauty and the pain of friendship, as well as all the gray areas in between.

It has made me take a closer look at my friendships, both past and present—the ones that lasted a lifetime, the ones that fizzled out over time and the few that ended abruptly leaving a bad taste in both of our mouths, and an unsettledness in our hearts.

“Reason. Season. Lifetime,” my friend simply stated when I began talking to him about friendships.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He explained that there are three different kinds of friends:
- Reason—these are friends you bond with for a reason—you work out with them, you attend a study group with them, you serve on a committee with them. They serve a purpose and a fulfill a current need for companionship in your life.
- Season—these friendships often happen as a result of something that brings you together and keeps you together for, on average, five to seven years—your kids go to school together, you are in the same book club, you are neighbors or you work together. Oftentimes, these friendships fizzle out when the season that brought you together ends—your kids attend different high schools, you change jobs or move.
- Lifetime–The third kind of friendship, which you are truly lucky if you have even one, is, of course, the lifetime friend. Your relationship has stood the test of time. She knew you when, she knows you now and she still loves you, and you feel the same way about her. These friendships are the most sturdy and reliable friendships. (I truly don’t know where I would be without my lifetime friends.)
Women need all three of these types of friendships, and they are each meaningful and fulfilling in different ways. And certainly a “reason” or “season” friendship can evolve into a long-standing friendship. When I step back to look at women and friendships in general, I notice that many women shy away from talking about friendships that are more challenging (which is why Jessica and Stephanie’s book is so important).

Women often think their friendships should be easy and natural, but when they are not, many women feel a certain amount of shame and they just want to move on. Dr. Irene S. Levine takes a close look at women’s friendships in her 2010 article in the Huffington Post:

“Despite the romanticized myth of BFF, the hard truth is that most friendships don’t last forever. In fact, research suggests that when it comes to friendships, a phenomenon occurs that is somewhat akin to the seven-year itch: Half of our close friendships turn over every seven years. Women are reluctant to talk about their friendship problems, which turn out to be quite common: losing friends, having unfulfilling friendships, or having no friends at all. Just like other life-affirming relationships that we treasure–relationships with lovers, husbands, siblings, children, and pets–our closest friendships tend to be imperfect. Friendships are fraught with disappointments and misunderstandings—resulting in some of the highest highs and the lowest lows of our emotional lives.”

For me, I know that I have been an amazing friend and I have been a shitty friend (not intentionally). I have been a devoted friend and a “checked-out” friend. I have hurt friends and been hurt by friends. But from each friendship, I have learned and grown, and I hope my friends feel the same way.

For mothers, our friendships are essential. They don’t have to be the Cosmo drinking, lunching or hitting the town several nights a week, Carrie Bradshaw and her girl gang types of friendships. However, an integral part of being a healthy woman and mother (which I cover in complete detail in my upcoming book on motherhood and self-care) is to be mindful and thoughtful about friendships. Mothers are exploring the unknown, sometimes terrifying territory of raising kids, while often managing a career and relationship with their partner (or ex-partner). When moms need assurance, acceptance, clarity, validation, support, guidance, love and trust, we often turn to our friends before anyone else (including our partners).

So, in the spirit of friendship, give this a try (or even a thought): On a regular basis, make a point to reach out to a new friend, an old friend, or maybe even an estranged friend, and say or do something that could literally make her day. It could be as simple as a phone call to say, “Hi, I am thinking about you.” Without having any expectations, notice what transpires, within yourself and within your friendships.

Have you had a friendship that ended, either gradually or suddenly? Either by your choice or your friend’s? Please take our friendship breakup survey… You could win a $25 gift certificate to Amazon!

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I’m Going Rogue: Punching Culture in the Face With a Phone Call

We are so happy to bring you a brand new friendship essay from one of our HerStories Project contributors, Vicky Willenberg. Vicky blogs at The Pursuit of Normal, and her essay, Big Girl Friendships, is featured in our upcoming book, which will be available in just two weeks! We bet you will be able to relate to the post she is sharing with us today:

I’m going rogue. I’m going to take a cultural norm and smack it upside the head. Am I going to challenge gender roles and the unreasonable expectations thrust upon women? Um, not really. Am I going to admit that I often forget to turn off the water while brushing my teeth and I don’t even feel badly about the wasted water? Nope.

I… am going to call you. Well, not all of you. But I am definitely calling some of you.

I am breaking the cultural chains that have tried to convince me that I cannot and should not call my friends. The same chains that have bound me to my computer, iPad and smartphone and have brainwashed me into believing that I don’t have time to make phone calls. Even more tragic is the fact I’ve convinced myself that I don’t need to call, that my current means of communication are enough.

But the truth is, they aren’t enough. So I will be making some changes. I won’t be texting, Facebooking or emailing you. There will be no tweeting, Instagramming or Google Circling. Well, there might still be some of that, but that’s not all there will be.

The truth is, friends, I miss you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the way you roll your eyes when you’re telling me something your mother or mother-in-law did. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you flail your arms as you share another story about your kid and how he just won’t pick up his clothes! And I miss nodding in solidarity when you heave a sigh and tell me how you and your husband feel more like roommates than lovers these days.

I want to Laugh Out Loud with you and even Roll On The Floor Laughing. And when you tell me something utterly ridiculous, I want to Shake My Head. I mean physically shake my head with you… in the same room!

I know it won’t be easy. We’ve become accustomed to this detached form communicating. It will be a tough habit to break largely because we did not arrive here intentionally. Someone once told me that the best way to cook a frog is not to drop him in a pot of boiling water, but to put him in a pot of tepid water and set the heat to low. Little by little the temperature will rise until the poor little sucker is cooking to death. Unbeknownst to me, over the last few years I think I’ve slowly boiled my friendships to death.

When I had my first child, I regularly chatted with girlfriends on the phone because my son was confined. I could strap him into the swing or the bouncy seat and he happily stared at his feet or gnawed on his fist. But those days passed much more quickly than I expected. Soon, he was on the move and all bets were off. The minute I got on the phone he decided it was time to attempt climbing the stairs for the first time or riding the dog. Talking on the phone was a bit like this…

Next came the parenting phenomenon known as The Magnetic Phone began. The second I picked up the phone, my children were drawn to me like magnets with life or death questions such as, “Can you read this for me?” or “Do you know where my Lego guy is?” and my personal favorite, “Can I have a snack?”

The next phase of parenting brought on the harsh reality that the “little ears” that rode around in my car were now big ears attached to an even bigger mouth; and unless I wanted my business discussed with the entire third grade or announced loudly in the aisles of Target, I needed to conduct all “adult conversations” after hours, in private.

And so, it became virtually impossible to have meaningful conversations with my friends. Slowly and surely I adapted and the Age of Texting dawned.

I’ve come to realize, though, that this really isn’t communicating because “communication” by definition is the “exchanging of information.” There was no “exchanging” going on. I was more or less dumping information as quickly as I could in a tiny window of time.

I equate texting to Grammatical Photo Bombing. While stopped at a red light I am furiously texting the latest events of my life as fast as my fat thumbs and autocorrect will allow. I breathe a sigh of relief that I finished before the light turned green, hit send and I’m on my way. You, on the other hand, are not sitting at a red light. You are driving your child to soccer, while mentally planning dinner, reminding yourself to sign that permission slip and trying to figure out when you’re going to fold that clean load of laundry that has been sitting in the basket for 4 days. Suddenly BOOM! You’ve got a text- smack in the middle of your life. Like the goofy guy who waves and flashes a giant smile in the background of your photo, interrupting the romantic atomosphere, I’ve just interrupted your groove with a 2 paragraph synopsis of a recent altercation I had with a friend. So you read it, plan your reply because you are a law abiding citizen and don’t text at red lights (unlike me) and get around to texting me when you have time- anywhere from 2 hours to 3 days later.

This, friends, is not communicating. Whatever it is, it’s not enough for me. My friendships are worth more than 140 characters, the length of a red light, or the 11 minutes I sit in the carpool pick up line at school. YOU, my friends, are worth more.

I wholeheartedly believe we were designed for community. Whether you are an introvert or an extrovert, the need to connect and share is ingrained in us. Our technology based lives trick us into believe that Text Bombing is connecting.

I don’t feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you because I saw a picture of you and your sweet family at the pumpkin patch just yesterday. Although sweet, that 3 second glimpse of you doesn’t strengthen our friendship nor does it tell me anything other than where you are. But I want to know how you are. And I need to tell you how I am.

Pictures and fun updates have their value of course. But I don’t necessarily need my friends to share in the fun happy times nearly as much as I need you when my life is in the crapper and I’m drowning in my over-scheduled, over-carpooled, over-guilted life. And no one’s posting that stuff on Facebook and if they are, they’re certainly not getting any “likes” for it.

Simply put, the current trend of drive-by communicating does not satisfy my soul.

The women I have chosen to call “friends” are amazing, complex people. They are women who enrich my life and help me be my best self. Our friendships are beautiful and deep and fulfilling. And in order to glean all that they have to offer, I must invest the time to connect- truly connect, in a way that is meaningful.

So I’m taking back my friendships. I’m restructuring my priorities and rediscovering what made you all my favorite people. I’m going to call you. I’m going to stutter and mumble and giggle and drone on and on and on, on your answering machine. And if you have 5 minutes to call me back- awesome. And if you don’t- well, that’s OK too because I know how busy you are and how hectic your schedule is. But I want you to know in a way that’s meaningful to me, that YOU are important to me and I’d love to hear your voice when you’ve got some time.

Being a rebel feels pretty good. You should join me.

That’s just my normal.

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My Momtourage

We are excited to share an essay from Dana at Celiac Kiddo today. Dana shares her transition to new motherhood, and the women she was lucky enough to share this journey with. Dana has a fantastic blog- if someone in your family is gluten-free or has Celiac Disease, you should definitely check her out. And if not, you should still head over there, as she writes about motherhood in such an honest, entertaining way.

When I had my first child five years ago, I was lucky enough to have a momtourage. Together we were four brand new deer in headlights mamas struggling to figure out life post babies. For nearly a year we spent countless hours in each other’s homes, at cafes, and in parks while carrying, wearing, or strolling our new babies, trying to make sense of our strange new life. We talked, nursed, cried, advised, and confided. Our last time together was at my daughter’s second birthday, but we had begun to drift apart well before then.

Sounds dramatic, but it wasn’t. We were friends of proximity. The kind of friends that are drawn together because of shared circumstances. Our friendship was intense, as those kinds often are, born out of fear and the unknown, burning like fire until the flames die down.

I met my momtourage in childbirth class. About ten couples gathered every week for six weeks to listen intently to a neighborhood woman who had not one, but two babies (!) and was trained in such matters. I thought of her as a guru of sorts, someone who was supposed to reveal the secrets of the universe, which for our class of first time mamas-to-be was how the hell to have a baby. As the class wound down and our due dates approached, our teacher set up an email contact list. In the weeks that followed, we learned the names and saw the smushed up faces of the babies who had brought us together.

A few of us continued emailing after the initial announcements, and somehow less than two months after having my baby, I ended up meeting three of my classmates on a sweltering June day. The “oldest” baby was mine, at about seven weeks, the others coming in close behind. Though we were relative strangers, even after our six-hour course, that first afternoon we couldn’t talk enough. From the moment we walked through the door of Amy’s apartment with our tiny babies in tow, stories spilled out of our mouths. We tried taking turns, but it was impossible not to chime in and interrupt each other. It wasn’t rudeness, but excitement, and more specifically, utter relief at having found one another. New motherhood is like being airlifted and dropped into another country where you don’t know the language, geography, or the culture. You stumble along feeling totally shell-shocked until suddenly you run into another traveler who you understand, and better still, understands you.

When you’re pregnant, labor and delivery seems like the penultimate event, but as we mothers all know, it’s only the opening monologue to a play that lasts the rest of your life. Those first friendships I forged in the fire of new motherhood saved me from losing my mind, and my sense of humor. Because right alongside the ecstatic joy of having a new baby is the utter despair upon realizing your “life” is irrevocably changed. Like, forever.

Even though we’re not all still in touch, I will always be grateful to these three women who made up my momtourage. Names have been changed, but the details are for real.

Hanna

I remember picking up Hanna on the way to Amy’s home for our first official get together. I had warned her that my baby would probably scream in the car (as she did most of the time except when she was passed out on my body). Hanna took it in stride and sang the whole way while I drove white knuckled. She was always like that, kind hearted and easygoing, never making me feel self-conscious about my colicky baby. I will always remember how she unabashedly sang Old McDonald for the zillionth time to soothe my fussy girl while strolling down crowded city sidewalks, and for the countless moments of kindness she consistently offered, and continues to offer, to both me and my daughter.

Julie

My gratitude to Julie reaches back to the very first days of our friendship when she graciously invited my family to dinner at her home. Her husband is a chef, so considering our post-baby meals were almost 100% take-out, this was bound to be a real treat. But still I hesitated. Dinner hour was my baby’s prime screaming time, but Julie didn’t seem fazed. In the end, her laid back manner eased my anxiety, and my sweet yet high strung baby somehow followed suit and fell asleep on the car ride over. My husband and I were able to eat dinner while both babies slept angelically on the table beside our perfectly cooked lamb burgers. Soon after Julie and I enjoyed our first glasses of wine post partum while our husbands’ fed the babies pumped milk. It was my first moment of “normalcy” and I will never forget how good that meal tasted. Not to mention the wine.

Amy

My gratitude toward Amy is all wrapped up in loneliness and a respite from loneliness. Just a few days before our babies were born, we met at a local bakery and politely exchanged stories. When she revealed to me that her son would be named after her mother, who had passed away years before, I nearly dropped my cupcake. My own mom had died shortly before I became pregnant, and that recent loss was still so raw. After our babies were born we mourned our mutual sadness, which was twofold: how our mothers would never hold our babies, and how our mothers would never know us as mothers.

Motherhood can be a lonely and isolating time. Motherhood without a mother perhaps even more so. There is something to be said about shared pain, and I will always be grateful to Amy for understanding my loss.

Loneliness might be powerful, but so is friendship. The stories here are only the tip of the iceberg. The rest lies beneath the surface and buoys me up, even now five years and another child later: a rock solid foundation of support, solidarity, and love.

The four kids at age two

Dana Schwartz is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York with her husband, two wild kids, and two neglected cats. She writes about her family’s journey with celiac disease on her blog, http://celiackiddo.wordpress.com

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Yoga Bonding

We’re delighted to be sharing Sarah’s story of friendship during her first years of motherhood. Sarah has a fantastic blog, Left Brain Buddha, where she writes about parenting and mindfulness.

It’s early evening, and I’m six months pregnant with my first child, walking my dog after prenatal yoga class. Not one minute into my walk, a pregnant woman comes running out of her house waving at me. “Hey! We’re in the same yoga class!”

We had been neighbors for months, and had never met. Yet our due dates were only two days apart. We were both pregnant with girls. We both loved yoga. We would be giving birth at the same hospital. I love synchronicity!

We got together a few times before our children were born, but we really came to know each other once we entered first-time motherhood together. Our girls ended up being born five days apart.

When my daughter was three months old, I took her to our first Yoga Bonding class ~ and there was my new friend, too! I loved these Wednesday yoga classes. We joked about how that one-hour yoga class managed to fill up the whole day — figuring out how to get Mom and baby dressed, fed, and inevitably re-dressed to make it to class by 11:15, scheduling naps around class, then bundling the babies back up in their carseats to get them home in a frigid January, followed by napping and recovering from yoga. That’s an exhausting day for a new mama!

And I craved that kind of structure and time with a friend during my days as a new mom. I had a rough time in those first months of motherhood. My daughter woke almost hourly during the night, napped for only 30 minutes at a time, and spent many of her waking hours crying — and so did I. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I took for “baby blues” had progressed into postpartum depression. Despite going to yoga bonding, I didn’t feel I was bonding with my daughter. Motherhood felt like a job I approached intellectually, rather than a passion I pursued out of love. My friends spent their days at work. I felt isolated and thought I was a terrible mother.

And then at one of our Yoga Bonding classes, my friend asked me if my husband and I would babysit her daughter for a few hours one evening. I felt so honored and flattered and relieved by the request. I was touched that she trusted me to watch her little girl, and it reassured an insecure new mom that at least someone thought I was doing things right. She’s trusting me with her child!

The night my husband and I babysat, I came to two important realizations: first, It is way harder to have two infants at once, and second, I really had bonded with my daughter. While I loved cradling my friend’s sweet child in my arms, my heart ached. I wanted to be holding my baby! Even though I’d spent the entire day carrying her as she fussed, I longed to hug and kiss her again and sing her to sleep.

Caring for another baby made me realize how in tune I was with my own daughter ~ my friend’s little one took her bottle differently, cried differently, needed to be soothed differently, and, holy cow, could that child spit up!

Our families began to spend a lot time together: dinner gatherings (which usually began around 4:45 pm to accommodate baby bedtimes), long daytime walks around the neighborhood and the lakes, and lots of playdates (if they can be called that when the kids can’t even walk.) But at that age (and maybe all ages), the playdates are more for the moms, right? I treasured the laughter, the conversation, the advice, and the confessions that my friend and I shared.

Our girls grew up together, played together, and spent every Sunday morning together while their dads walked them in their strollers to go to the local coffee shop for donuts. Then the six of us would spend a leisurely morning on our patio, enjoying coffee, sweets, and company while the girls played.
We moved on to Yoga for Crawlers. First birthday parties. Trick-or-Treating. Second children.

And just when I got pregnant with my second child, they moved away! It was hard to see my mama-friend, and my daughter’s best bud, leave. Even the baristas at the coffee shop expressed their sadness that our little girls wouldn’t continue to grow up together.

We keep in touch now through Facebook and social media. When our children get together for visits, even though the girls are now almost seven, and they were separated when they were two, it’s like they’ve been girlfriends for a long time.

I know the feeling. Here’s to yoga bonding.

Sarah Rudell Beach, is a teacher, wife, and a mother to two energetic little ones. At Left Brain Buddha she explores ideas and practices for mindfulness, and shares the challenges and riches in her journey to live and parent mindfully in a left-brain, analytical life. She encourages you to discover the amazing transformations that can occur when we not only indulge, but learn to tame, our monkey minds.

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