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It was a bright Saturday afternoon when we were nearing home. The twins were getting restless in the backseat, engaging in their usual sibling disputes. Just two minutes away from our driveway, I spotted a large bounce house, colorful balloons, and children joyfully playing. A familiar group of six women was gathered in a circle, chatting and laughing as if nothing was amiss. The seventh member of that circle was noticeably absent—me.
“Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice,” I silently begged my kids, but it was futile. “Mom! Nicky’s party! I want to go to Nicky’s party!” my son shouted. My heart sank as I watched my little boys gaze longingly at a celebration filled with friends they had known for years … a party they weren’t invited to.
As we drove past the house where we had spent so many happy moments, their excitement shifted to tears. “WHYYYYYY??? WHY, MOMMY?” they cried. In between their sobs, they bombarded me with questions I struggled to answer. Why weren’t their closest friends included? What had they done wrong?
The truth was, they had done nothing wrong at all. How could I possibly explain that my own close friends had discarded me like yesterday’s trash? That women who once felt like family had turned away, leading my innocent children to be excluded from the playdates and gatherings they once enjoyed?
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. I briefly dwelled on how petty adult friendships can be, but a small hand on my shoulder brought me back to the moment. “Mommy? Why are you crying?” my compassionate little boy asked, wiping his own tears away.
I wasn’t upset about my former friends—I had moved on and forgiven them for my own peace. I had made new connections, and there were indeed positive aspects to that painful experience. As adults, we understand that friendships can change over time. But for kids, it’s an entirely different story.
Turning to my sons with their tear-filled eyes, my heart ached for them. They were innocent bystanders in this adult drama. All they understood was that one moment we had a solid group of friends, and the next, we didn’t. How could I adequately explain this to them?
As parents, we strive to teach our kids kindness and inclusion. We educate them about recognizing bullying and how to respond. My mother once told me that high school is temporary, and the bullies would disappear after graduation. She was mistaken—adult mean girls exist, and they can be even more hurtful.
You can be unkind to me all you want; spread rumors, roll your eyes, and whisper behind my back. Go ahead. I’ve chosen my self-respect over trying to win you back. But leave the children out of it. Grow up and consider the impact you’re having on innocent kids you once claimed to care about.
To anyone who has ended a friendship that involved kids, I urge you to think about the little ones. Just take a moment to consider their feelings.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my sons and I are about to indulge in some mint chocolate chip ice cream and have a much-needed conversation.
For more relatable stories, check out this post. And if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, Make a Mom provides valuable resources. For further insights, WebMD is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
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Summary:
This article discusses the emotional fallout of losing adult friendships and how it affects children, particularly when they are excluded from social events. It reflects on the challenges of explaining adult relationships to kids and emphasizes the importance of considering children’s feelings in such situations.
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