Like, say, when the stomach bug could hypothetically be on round five in your house, and maybe you’re burned out from cleaning up stomach bug messes.
Possibly you wake up feeling “off” – even though you might have already had the bug 3 days ago.
Then, perhaps, you realize you are getting a head cold, and your hands are chapped from constant washing.
Maybe you have 15 loads of stomach-bug related laundry to fold, and you haven’t been out of the house in 7 days except for an emergency run to the grocery store.
What if, on top of all that, you forgot to check homework assignments or communication folders and inadvertently missed class party donations for one of your kids.
You just might have a realization that in the fray of a sick house, all your paperwork has slipped and you could have a mini panic attack that there may or may not be bills that have slipped through the cracks over the last week.
Then, the sliding door repair man, that you forgot you scheduled for today, could show up on your front porch, and you could answer the door in your pajamas and try to pull it all off as “lounge wear” – until you notice you are wearing the same sweat pants you have worn through your last three pregnancies – and multiple bathroom bleachings.
What would be really funny is if said repair man was about 250 lbs and afraid of amphibians – like the one your kids let in the house while the doors are wide open.
He could keep repeating how much he hates frogs because they pee on you, and he might start sweating bullets as he tries to “be a man” and catch the creature.
Then, it’s possible that you come to the conclusion that if this frog is going down, it’s going to be you taking care of business.
So you might go get a broomstick and a Tupperware bowl, and through an entirely graceful routine of modified yoga moves and classy floor squirms in your chic pajamas, you could catch that dad-gum disgusting thing and take it out back to release it in the wilds of your suburban back yard.
Then you could potentially, but accidentally, coat the bathroom door handles in hand soap – thinking it was hand sanitizer.
Hypothetically speaking of course, your healthy kids could have cabin fever, this bug might keep threatening to come back – to you and everyone else it’s already affected – and maybe the kiddo who battled the bug all day yesterday might be recovering today on the couch.
Then maybe your toddler – who might have had the bug FIRST, wakes up on day 6 with spit-up in her hair. . . again. . . just maybe.
It’s all a very possible bad day.
It could happen.
Then maybe, precisely when you are at your worst emotional place of that hypothetical bad day, one of your BFFs calls – and even though she’s not the first one to ask them – when she says those three magic and damning words, “How are you?”, something happens inside you.
Her voice goes right to where everything is wound up and worn out. Something might crack this particular time, and nothing comes out but tears.
Well, tears and sobs. Maybe. Big sobs. Like you’re the two-year old again.
Then, say she listens to you, and comforts you, and understands you, and forgives you for plopping the kids in front of the TV for seven hours a day. She might tell you not to cook tonight, to order out, to keep watching TV, to forgive yourself. She could tell you that you’re a good mom – even if you’re not believing it right now in the wake of missing the homework folders and staring at the 15 loads of unfolded laundry and the sink of undone dishes and counting the hours of TV the kids have logged. Theoretically, she might offer to do a grocery shop and drop the goods off at the end of the porch path where the sick-bug can’t reach her, and the two of you might laugh at both the ridiculousness of the thought and the truth of it.
And then you would feel better. You’d make it through another day. Evening would roll around and things might be looking OK.
Then there might be a phone call where your friend says to you, “Go check your front porch”.
So you’d go do that and, when you do, there just may be a grocery bag filled with roasted chicken and rolls, the kids’ favorite cookies, the toddler’s favorite snacks, a gossip magazine, a bouquet of bright happy flowers – and you would feel like crying all over again. . . but this time because you’d feel touched, and loved, and understood, and it would feel so good.
Just pretend that could all happen. . . and imagine the beauty and the peace and the warmth of it.
I imagined it all so hard that it feels like it really happened.
Then, go make some of your own warm, peaceful beauty.
Go “BFF” someone. Yes, I’m officially making it a verb. BFF them up. Show them the love that you know they need, because you’ll know exactly what they need. . . and if you are on the receiving end of some BFF love, accept it and savor it, and enjoy every last drop of it.
That’s what BFFing is all about.