The No-Bullshit, No-Drama Friendship Manifesto.
It's actually a blog post from Janelle over at Renegade Mothering, which is quite possibly my new favorite blog. She tells motherhood like it is. It would be impossible for me to paraphrase this manifesto and do it any good so here it is. You can read the whole post here.
- I will not get on your case for not texting me back in a timely manner.
- I will not get on your case for not calling me back in a timely manner.
- This is because I will soon be the one not calling and texting you back in a timely manner.
- If you tell me you’re going to call me back “in a few minutes” I understand I may not hear from you for 3 days.
- I know this is not because you don’t love me.
- If I need you for real, I will harangue and harass you until you acknowledge me. This process includes, but is not limited to: calling, texting and emailing (repeatedly), instant messaging, tweeting, tagging on Instagram, showing up on doorsteps, actually leaving voicemails (!) and/or contacting spouses.
- This will not annoy you because you know you’re a fucking flake.
- This will not annoy me because I know I’m a fucking flake.
- If you don’t RSVP to my kid’s birthday party for 3 weeks then call the morning of the event and say “Uh, yeah, um, sorry, but can we come?” I’m not going to express profound irritation through a suppressed sigh and deep pause, rather I’m gonna be like “Yeah that’s cool, but do you have any candles? I forgot the effing candles.”
- And I’m going to be happy you came, because we’re friends.
- When my kids are acting like shitheads and you’re like “Hey child, No.” I won’t get all righteously indignant. Instead I’ll look at you in gratefulness for dealing with the little bastards so I don’t have to.
- When you get pissed at your husband, I will agree he is the most sorry d-bag to ever walk the planet and we shall plan for the day when we live on an all-female commune with organic produce, llamas and wool spinning-wheels. And redwood trees. And the ocean.
- Even if you’re clearly the asshole.
- When you swear in front of my kids I won’t care. Because obviously.
- The dinners you make uniformly blow my mind.
- Whoever has the youngest (or worst behaving child) at the moment gets to make decisions. We all understand that children are often foul, insane little creatures and it needn’t even be mentioned that we DON’T BLAME YOU.
- Maybe your house is clean. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe who gives a rat’s ass?
- When I say something stupid that could be conveyed as insulting or whatever, you’re not going to get all overly sensitive and weird, calling mutual friends and psycho-analyzing what, exactly, my problem is (probably going back to childhood), rather you’re going to call me out on it and then I’m going to apologize and we’re going to move on, LIKE ADULTS, because occasionally adults say stupid shit, the end.
- When you say something stupid, I’ll either do number 18 or, and I know this is revolutionary, I’LL LET IT GO.
- We tell each other the truth (except the asshole part when fighting with domestic life partners).
- When my jeans are sagging, you’re going to lovingly take me shopping. Or you’re going to not notice. These are the only two options.
- The only time I’m going to one-up you is to prove I’ve screwed up worse than the time you’re currently feeling terribly about.
- I will not give helpful parenting advice. You will not give helpful parenting advice. WE ALL HATE THE MOM WITH HELPFUL PARENTING ADVICE.
- I understand that “on time” means “not as late as I usually am.”
- When our conversation gets interrupted nineteen hundred and forty seven times by one kid or another and that thing I was going to say that was so funny and interesting is forgotten entirely, I won’t get hurt feelings.
- When I borrow a baby item, don’t return it, then, 2 years later, when you ask for it back and I’m like “Yeah I don’t think we have that anymore,” you’re like “oh okay” but then, 4 months later, when I find it in a bin in my garage, you’re like “It’s cool.”
- Because we’re both fucking flakes, except when it matters.
Seriously can I get an AMEN. We all have those friends.. Hell you may even BE that friend, but I'm sure we can all agree lets leave the drama behind, because while we are running around the house trying to remember the last time you gave your kid cheerios and whether or not that one they just found under the couch is fair game, you don't need to worry about pleasing someone else.
By the way I am a total flake. Get over it.
Go check out Janelle at her blog at Renegade Mothering.
Which of these rules is your favorite?? Any you would add?