Latest posts by Julie Zantopoulos (see all)
- Relationship Quick Tip #3: Sex Isn’t a Bargaining Tool - August 29, 2014
- Fuck the Naysayers - August 27, 2014
- Unplug: You Need It - August 26, 2014
Being in my 30’s, it is no surprise that friends of mine are marrying your friends have kids. It’s also no surprise that with that change in their life comes a change in our relationship. Friendships evolve over time, I wrote about just that recently on my website, and we all accept that. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t resent it sometimes though. Gasp! Yeah, I said it. I resent the hell out of your child sometimes.
I LOVE being honorary Aunt to my friend’s children and I love them SO much but there are times that I wish they weren’t around. Does that sound harsh? Maybe. People change, their priorities and their focus in life won’t stay where it was when we met, but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss the way things were.
How Things Change When Your Friends Have Kids
Suddenly my best friend is hanging out with her Mommy friends because they understand her sleepless night, teething, and separation anxiety issues. There’s a different group of women she is going to now for laugh and advice, a group that I will never belong to. Gone are the days where I can call her up and leave on a spontaneous weekend getaway. No more are the nights that turn to mornings without us ever seeing our beds.
“That’s part of being an adult.”
Well, it’s not a part of ME being an adult. I don’t have those same restrictions and sometimes, just sometimes, I hate that you do! It doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. It doesn’t mean that I’m not thrilled you found your partner in life and procreated a beautiful bundle of joy. I am! I absolutely am. It just means that sometimes I’m angry it wasn’t the way it was. Sometimes I feel like you left me behind.
Distance Grows After Your Friends Have Kids
Change is growth, growth is good, and hence change is good. I understand this on an intellectual level. Emotionally it is a much different picture. I still love you but suddenly I find myself calling you less. One day I realize we haven’t talked in a month and want to cry. Then I feel stupid calling after that long; what would I say anyway? A part of me feels left out. The other part of me doesn’t want to hear about the teething that led to fevers and runny diapers.
All the sudden we’re distant, different. Phone calls get awkward and play out more like a game of catch up. I hang up happy to have heard your voice but feeling further from you than before. You see if I don’t call you I don’t have to face how much we’ve grown apart. If I don’t call I can pretend that we’re still the way we used to be. If I don’t call you I can blame “being busy” and not remember that it’s less because we are busy and more because we are different now.