The Last Straw...

Life happens.  And lately, it has been happening to me in all sorts of ways.  I could go on and on about all of the crazy things that have interrupted my life recently, but I have a sneaking suspicion that most of you reading this have had your lives interrupted in ways that I wouldn't even begin to understand.  And I don't hear you complaining. (This is of course overlooking the fact that I wouldnt' be able to hear you complaining even if you were.)

These last few days have been particularly hard for one silly, tiny little reason.  I had to disappoint someone.  I hate disappointing people.  Let me be clear that I don't hate disappointing EVERYONE....some people I really don't care whether I disappoint or not.  It's the people I love that I hate disappointing.  You know, the people you always want to be available for - the people who are always there for you - your "homies" if you will.
I had to tell my dear friend that I couldn't go to her party.  I know this sounds silly, but it isn't.  I wasn't scared that she would get mad at me.  I wasn't afraid that she would overreact and stop speaking to me.  I was afraid that this would be something much more than it was.  I was afraid it would be a turning point in our friendship.

I'm ultra sensitive about being a mom.  Before I was a mom, I had no understanding of parenthood and how it changes your priorities.  I always had the "I'm so much bigger than this" mentality.  I wasn't going to become one of those parents who forgets all about their friends and would rather spend Friday night with her children eating pizza and watching Cars with 2 of the 4 participants under the age of three and in really tight monkey pajamas.  (Okay, so I don't think that even the most independent singleton could resist my boys in their tight little monkey pajamas if Orlando Bloom (post Lord of the Rings and before Pirates of the Caribbean) was beckoning to them from across the street... I'm just throwing that out there.) 
Before I had kids I had to say "no" to nothing.  Move to San Francisco for the summer without my husband to take classes? Sure.  Open an art gallery and wine bar?  Sounds like a plan.  Go to Europe for 11 days with a pack of hormone-driven, up-until-2am-doing-Lord-knows-what 18-year olds?  I'll get my passport!  Get dressed up for a Halloween party that one of my best friends in throwing?  No question.....
Until now.  UGH.  I had a stomachache all week thinking about it.  I knew she would be okay.  I knew she would still be my friend.  But I didn't know if it would be the last straw.

Today I told her.  I told her why I was so afraid to tell her.  She of course said it was okay.  She understood.  She still wants to be my friend.  She forgives me.  She will survive her party without me.  It was not the last straw.  I should have given her more credit.  I mean after all, back when I had all the time in the world to choose my friends, I chose her.