My secret? Sometimes I miss my best friend—my husband

My husband—my best friend, my roommate—is sometimes the person I miss the most. 

My secret? Sometimes I miss my best friend—my husband

Once upon a time, after meeting through a group of friends, a girl and a boy coincidentally met again outside a bar one night and decided it was fate. They hung out, talking for hours.

They went on an offical date, and as instantly as it happens these days, they fell in love.

They were best friends. Best, best friends.

Yes, I am the girl, I am the protagonist here. And my husband—my partner in the greatest sense of the word—Joe, is my co-star.

We moved to the West Coast, got married, had babies—two babies that we never got to hold and two babies who keep life wild and crazy and full every day.

Life has sped by—our run-in outside that Boston bar was about 16 years ago.

We have moved multiple times, changed jobs, taken risks, fought, cried, held each other up, said snarky things like ‘well it would be nice if someone would fold the laundry’ (truth: I’ve said that, not him.) My husband is much more direct—the tone of which used to hurt my feelings—so we’ve learned to navigate a middle ground there between passive and direct. We’ve worked and grown and laughed and all that married people do.

I could go on and on. You get the idea. It’s not an uncommon story. We love each other dearly, we adore our children and our lives.

But sometimes—we miss each other.

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We miss hanging out without an agenda. We miss the spontaneous call “hey! it’s gorgeous out—meet me downtown for happy hour!”

Last month I met Joe in the Bay Area for a long weekend after his week of business travel. (And a Bruce Springsteen show. Priorities.) It wasn’t long into our trip, when I noticed we were talking and listening and laughing and even, dare I say, flirting a bit. And it was then that I realized quite how much I had been missing him.

Missing my best friend who always had a sparkle in his eye. Missing the person who could make me laugh so hard it hurt.

The last few years have been a whirlwind. It’s been nuts, as anyone with small children can tell you. Of course, we wouldn’t change a thing—but that doesn’t take away from the fact that we can feel nostalgic for the days we weren’t tied to much more than one another. And I can say that, having spent quite some time begging and pleading the universe for a baby.

Still. Nostalgia for the days of just us.

With our schedules, there are weeks we hardly cross paths. Sometimes they don’t cross at all when he is traveling for work and we’re too tired for phone calls.

Sometimes days go by with not much more than the “you do the dishes, I’ll do bath” negotiations.

There was a time recently when we had fallen into that place far too long. It was probably the lowest point of our marriage—that icky place where we weren’t truly connecting, we were only strategizing. Quite frankly, it sucked.

And what sucked even more was the stark realization at how easily busy married couples could fall into that place. It’s easy. But we knew we didn’t want to be there. We are both too passionate about life to remain content in mediocrity.

We recommitted to our friendship.

To the initial attraction that made our spirits need to be with one another. We work on it all the time, and we are probably in a better place than ever before. And yet. I miss him. I miss my buddy. I miss doing nothing. I miss quiet! I miss walking on the beach, hand in hand, blissfully in love and unaware of anyone else but us. I miss making out. I miss my bestie.

I actually cried that weekend away. Tears of joy, tears of recognition, tears of being seen for all of me—not just mommy. I hugged him so tightly and I wasn’t completely ready to come home, to be honest. My kids are my world—they fill my heart and soul with a delight I never knew possible. But I wasn’t ready for everything it takes to be a mother.

We promised each other to stay in ‘best friend’ state of mind.

And mostly, we have. Staying there does have its challenges though. It can be tough to find those moments every day to hold hands, to talk about something other than work, children, or school. But we are committed to it.

We’ve learned that it is a process, and it builds upon itself. If we don’t work at our friendship, we become strangers living together.

When we put forth a little effort each day, our resonance compounds, grows, until we are able to read each other’s minds again. Then we are laughing again.

In those times, those sparkly times, I remember we were best friends first.

We were best friends before any of these other monumental life changing moments occurred.

And that friendship is worth the work.

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10 must-have registry items that will change your life, mama

The baby gear heavy hitters that should be top of your list

Calling all mamas-to-be! It's a fundamental truth of (impending) motherhood that your prepping-for-baby To Do list can feel a mile long, but really the best way to feel organized is to sort out the most important item at the top of your list: your registry. Sure the items you choose to include will end up running the gamut from nice-to-haves to absolutely essential game-changers, but mamas in the know quickly learn one thing: Not all baby gear is created equal.

So while you can and should pepper your registry with adorable inclusions that aren't necessarily can't-live-withouts (go ahead, add 'em!), you should make sure you're ticking the boxes on those pieces of baby gear that can be absolute life savers once you're in full-blown mama mode. From car seats to bouncers and playmats, your play and travel gear will be some of the most obvious important items on your list, but so can unexpected things, like a super comfy baby carrier and a snooze-inducing white noise machine. So to help you sort through the must-have options, we turned to the holy grail of motherhood that is buybuy BABY and handpicked 10 of the very best essential pieces that will change your life, we promise.

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I never wanted to be a mom. It wasn't something I ever thought would happen until I fell madly in love with my husband—who knew very well he wanted children. While he was a natural at entertaining our nephews or our friends' kids, I would awkwardly try to interact with them, not really knowing what to say or do.

Our first pregnancy was a surprise, a much-wanted one but also a unicorn, "first try" kind of pregnancy. As my belly grew bigger, so did my insecurities. How do you even mom when you never saw motherhood in your future? I focused all my uncertainties on coming up with a plan for the delivery of my baby—which proved to be a terrible idea when my dreamed-of unmedicated vaginal birth turned into an emergency C-section. I couldn't even start motherhood the way I wanted, I thought. And that feeling happened again when I couldn't breastfeed and instead had to pump and bottle-feed. And once more, when all the stress from things not going my way turned into debilitating postpartum anxiety that left me not really enjoying my brand new baby.

As my baby grew, slowly so did my confidence that I could do this. When he would tumble to the ground while learning how to walk and only my hugs could calm him, I felt invincible. But on the nights he wouldn't sleep—whether because he was going through a regression, a leap, a teeth eruption or just a full moon—I would break down in tears to my husband telling him that he was a better parent than me.

Then I found out I was pregnant again, and that this time it was twins. I panicked. I really cannot do two babies at the same time. I kept repeating that to myself (and to my poor husband) at every single appointment we had because I was just terrified. He, of course, thought I could absolutely do it, and he got me through a very hard pregnancy.

When the twins were born at full term and just as big as singleton babies, I still felt inadequate, despite the monumental effort I had made to grow these healthy babies and go through a repeat C-section to make sure they were both okay. I still felt my skin crawl when they cried and thought, What if I can't calm them down? I still turned to my husband for diaper changes because I wasn't a good enough mom for twins.

My husband reminded me (and still does) that I am exactly what my babies need. That I am enough. A phrase that has now become my mantra, both in motherhood and beyond, because as my husband likes to say, I'm the queen of selling myself short on everything.

So when my babies start crying, I tell myself that I am enough to calm them down.

When my toddler has a tantrum, I remind myself that I am enough to get through to him.

When I go out with the three kids by myself and start sweating about everything that could go wrong (poop explosions times three), I remind myself that I am enough to handle it all, even with a little humor.

And then one day I found this bracelet. Initially, I thought how cheesy it'd be to wear a reminder like this on my wrist, but I bought it anyway because something about it was calling my name. I'm so glad I did because since day one I haven't stopped wearing it.

Every time I look down, there it is, shining back at me. I am enough.

I Am Enough bracelet 

SONTAKEY  I Am Enough Bracelet

May this Oath Bracelet be your reminder that you are perfect just the way you are. That you are enough for your children, you are enough for your friends & family, you are enough for everything that you do. You are enough, mama <3


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The truth is, anger—real, fist-clenching, heart-racing, uncontrollable anger—is so much more common among mothers than many of us think.

Maternal anger takes most women who experience it by surprise. I'm not this person, we say, after feeling a shocking swell of rage during one of those inevitable moments of frustration we all face as a parent.

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The truth is, anger—real, fist-clenching, heart-racing, uncontrollable anger—is so much more common among mothers than many of us think. And it's time to talk about what "mom rage" is, where it comes from, and what we can do about it.

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