Texting the Ridiculous

We all have them. Or we should.

Those friends to whom we can text something totally ridiculous out of the blue, right in the middle of our most chaotic moments, and know we are heard and understood.

For me, I know those friends are likely laughing at me or with me. They are writing something equally ridiculous right back. They are sending dumb pictures of stupid injuries or of a child drinking from a puddle in the street or of another failed meal prep. They are texting while they reheat their cup of coffee for the seventh time. Sometimes they are texting about how they just cried, too. Or about how they miss working outside the home. Or how, just for one minute, they'd love to pee without someone watching.

In it together.

Ideally, these friends would be right in the room and we could do this face-to-face. But that's not reality. Some of them live right around the corner, others across the country. Some I've known for decades and others for months.

But they are there. Here. In it.

I am not a techie person. But, in a way, during this season of being home, a choice I never thought I'd make and one with which I struggle daily, these texts have saved my life.

In the moments when I feel the most alone, the most likely to lose heart, I can say a prayer, press a few buttons and have a friend saying "God has got this, take a deep breath, laugh at yourself, order a pizza, tomorrow's a new day." I can take heart knowing that I am just one of so many mamas in the trenches.

And I cannot express how grateful I am.

Grateful that these are people in my life who get it. Grateful that they don't reply with cliches or tell me I'm complaining. (Unless they really SHOULD tell me I'm complaining and to suck it up for goodness sake. Because I need that sometimes, too.) Grateful for honest, simple interactions that ground me during a phase where my children's needs keep me isolated a lot of the day, especially during the winter with my cold-hating babies.

I know one day we probably won't text as often. And the texts won't include pictures of my infant attempting to drink from the toilet. Maybe we'll live closer and talk over a glass of wine while our kids are old enough to play without needing minute-to-minute intervention.

I don't know.

For now, I'm glad for the few, the crazy, the text-buddies. You know who you are. Love you.