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When Your Child is Your Best Friend

Photograph by Getty Images

I am a complex individual. Hell, I’ll admit I am not really friendly, personable or likeable. My interests and opinions are so out there that I don’t have much to discuss with people. I’m an introvert. That means I enjoy spending time alone more than I enjoy being around people. This is a challenge because although I am not one to socialize, I do crave a good conversation every now and then.

I smiled a deep smile as my phone rang yesterday, interrupting an intense brainstorming session. I had to pick up: It was one of my favorite people—my 12-year-old son calling from the East Coast.

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We chat twice daily, to keep the connection strong while I am out here in Los Angeles taking a risk for my dreams. While I can barely make eye contact when I meet new people—much less hold a conversation—my son and I gabbed about everything; the news, his school, my hopes, our future, Internet jokes, YouTube videos and even the rain. He disagreed with me on some of my opinions, which I can appreciate. I encourage him to never follow anyone’s opinion blindly because no one can figure out life’s answers but him.

He passed the phone to his brother, and we had a remarkable chat, too. We talked mainly about books, preparations for his upcoming math exam and my strategy for marketing my creative work. I reminded them to get their homework done and go to bed early so they won’t miss the bus in the morning. I hung up feeling satisfied and pleased with myself.

It feels good to know that even though I’m a weirdo, somebody likes talking to me.

As much as I enjoy my introversion, the cool part of being a mom is having my kids to check in with. When I must step back into the real world I get a treat; because not only do I have children who understand and accept my quirks and intelligence when no one else does, but I also realize that my sons are actually my best friends.

They are my favorite people to hang out with. We take the bus to the beach and have great lunches and ice cream. We stay up late watching movies. We even have a standard "cuddle time" where we devote about a half hour to simply hugging and allowing them to talk to me about anything their minds can conceive. When something great happens in my life, they are the first ones that I call. On my birthday or any holiday, I’m not calling up my girlfriends to go party; I want to spend it with my sons.

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They laugh at my jokes. They support me in my dreams. They listen. They understand. It feels good to know that even though I’m a weirdo, somebody likes talking to me. Somebody wants to see me. Somebody thinks I’m cool. Someone is proud to walk with me in public. My favorite memories in life are those moments when I’m goofing off with them.

Maybe there is some truth to the concept of soul mates. Maybe there is some cosmic fate bonding souls through unconditional love and laughter. Maybe I won’t marry mine, because I gave birth to them.

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