October 18 marks the anniversary of some great friends – 11 years for them today. We danced our asses off at their wedding. I’m pretty sure my husband got up and sang Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” at their reception. (Hard to believe the friendship survived that!)
We’ve been friends with Guy forever. He and I park next to each other in the office garage, because we started the same day. That many years ago, Beth wasn’t even a twinkle in Guy’s eye. (Yeah, I just said that.) What makes their anniversary so special to me, is that Guy brought Beth into my life. I consider their day, our friendiversary.
Our friendship had a slow start. You know how your 20s are: working hard, trying to earn approval, finding your way in adulthood, and acquiring things. We just didn’t know each other that well, but we continued doing stuff together as couples. One night they had us over for dinner and Guy convinced us to play “Pass the Pigs.” There is probably a reason we haven’t played it since and I couldn’t tell you the first thing about the rules. I digress… during the mindless game we got to talking about growing our families. We hadn’t talked with many people about our struggle with infertility and I was a bit shy as it typically resulted in me feeling bad about myself not being able to accomplish what teenage girls can do by accident. In a quiet moment around their kitchen table, Beth let it be and just offered me comfort.
In the six years from that night, we’ve each had two kids, happy pregnancies and scary ones, the longest bed rest known to man, a few medical emergencies, and shared the most joyful and desperate moments in our lives. We’ve been in it together, supporting each other in the tough decisions and laughing about our failures. I don’t actually think Beth has had any failures, so I guess we just laugh about mine, of which there are many.
This past week as I was making arrangements for the kids so we could go to the funeral, I texted to see if she would be around in an emergency when my parents weren’t here. It’s sort of like asking if day will break, of course. She texted me later.
One of the things that I appreciate about Beth is that she knows I can be a complete air head, but she is so gentle. She never has her dates mixed up… ever. I can’t be a thousand times more likely to have my dates mixed up, because 1000 x 0 = 0 and that is simply not the case. Even better, when I mention “simple,” the idea of take out becomes a possibility in her head and she is completely supportive.
When I sent these text, I had absolutely no clue what I was going to make for dinner, but knew I probably wouldn’t be buying groceries between then and Friday night, so best that she bring the fresh goods, since she does her grocery shopping on Thursday. (She’s going to read this and chastise me for not giving her my grocery list so she could pick up whatever we needed. Seriously, I can’t believe how lucky I am.)
Two days later, we are in the car and she sends a message asking if she can bring Halloween cookies and decorations that she had purchased for her son’s school, but since learned that they had too many volunteers. “So, do you care if (in addition to salad), I bring cookies and the fixings to decorate them on Friday?”
First, how do you say no to that? This woman can bake. Second, I’m still not sure if she was just being super nice or if there was over volunteering at school. Third, she knows I have anxiety over making dessert and am not very good at using my oven. Fourth, had I actually had to execute a dessert, we would have been up until midnight or she probably would have done it for me in my kitchen. Fifth, I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve this awesomeness in my life.
At that point, I graciously accept and am reminded that I need to come up with something for dinner. Would it be wrong if I just responded with, “Do you mind bringing the entree too?” Instead I decide that we’ll have take and bake pizza, because it would be terrible to ask her to bring the. entire. meal. Thursday night I remember we have tortellini and the remaining ingredients for one of my favorite soups, so it is decided to pass on the pizza.
Friday night arrives after an especially grueling day at work. Guy, Beth, and their sweet children arrive promptly at 5:45 having let me know their ETA. Guy knew I was at the office late and Beth knows that I’m usually just late. It was like a gust of fresh air blew into our kitchen, melting away any stress of the day or week. We sent the kids down to play in the family room while we ate in peace and talked about our weeks. (We did eventually feed the children yogurt tubes, candy corn, and cookies.)
Friday nights don’t get much better than yesterday’s: friends around my table, happy children, girls beating boys at Sequence, wine (lots of wine), and laughter. We may be the most boring people you know, but I don’t care. I think I could do this 52 fridays a year and not get sick of it.
Happy Anniversary, Guy and Beth! Guy, thank you for being awesome (I know you are blushing, big guy!) and bringing even more awesome into my life. Beth, Happy Friendiversary! I really think we need to plan a vacation to celebrate one of these years. Should we bring the boys?