We Are Not Best Friends…


I was recently told ‘You are not my best friend, you are my mother’. Aauch! Right, I always thought we had a thing, something special and we tell each other everything, that if told to write a composition is school about ‘My best friend’ she would write about me. She said ‘Yes, we are good friends and we have a thing but you are my mother, you have your best friend and I have mine, and you don’t tell me everything, even some phone calls you make at night you don’t tell me’ We are having this conversation over supper, and I know exactly how to change the subject (After observing some weird eating habits here) but my gut prompts me to stick around. However, there’s no way I’ am telling her who I talk with at night.  Not yet time.

‘So, do you tell me everything? Do I know everything about you?’ she looks at me with firm eyes and says, ‘Only God knows everything about everyone, but I tell you so many things’ Okay, That’s not bad at all, I keep asking ‘Are there things that I don’t know and I should know?’ She smiles at me and says, ‘Even your mother does not know everything about you, but she is still your mother, and you are still her daughter’ People! My electrician is becoming a philosopher?Is this the baby I have seen crawl the other day, now acting so logical, and dodging my questions. Wait, she is not done, ‘If my best friend is my mother, then who will be my mother?’ Now am the one busy eating and behaving that I dint hear the question.

Sorry, I have to stop there and explain something, she mixes watermelon with beans and rice, and eats them all together, she also removes the cover of sausage before eating. Plus, she is never comfortable drinking soda that hasn’t been mixed with juice or another soda. So as I have this conversation, I am greatly disturbed.

Moving on swiftly, the conversation indeed had a conclusion, that we are friends, very good friends, We laugh, play, work, pray, travel, live together but we are not best friends because am her mom. I still feel uneasy about this, but it’s time to go to bed. So I hear people say my mother is my best friend, why isn’t mine saying that, what I did wrong, she has described best friends but still insists we are not. Will I let this one bug me? No I won’t, I will just analyze it for one more hour, then go to sleep.

I don’t tell her everything, because she cannot handle my issues, I need her to tell me everything because I think I can handle her issues. I don’t involve her in all my decisions because I am the mom, and once I tried involving her and we ended up buying ice cream instead of toothpaste. When I am low, I don’t rush to her because I will scare her away, but I would like her to run to me when low because I am her mother. Okay, I agree, I am her mother not her best friend. Because ‘mother’ is more than best friend.( I have to sleep on a high note) so I encourage myself in the Lord.

Come to think of it, my mother and I are good friends, but are we best friends really? Does she know everything about me? Do I run to her every minute I am in trouble? Well, I don’t think so, but she is my mother, the best mother in the world. She made sure I told her all important things about my life, and was always there for me. If she poured out her stress on me when I was 9, she would be messing me up, but she involved me as much as she could and allowed me to learn from her.

So instead of worrying about not being called a ‘best friend’, I should be working on being called ‘The best mother in the world.’

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