hijacked blog

hello blog readers... this is melanie. I have temporarily hijacked Bri's blog to tell you a little story. I am slightly long winded, so forgive me, and stick with me.

In 2001, I made a very fortunate mistake. I took a job at my gym’s day care. It was a nightmare job that paid nothing. And because of my issue of not being able to say no, I ended up managing the place after a few months. I hated the pay, the hours, the way my child never got attention, the filth, but most of all my co-workers. These people were, to put it plainly, certifiably INSANE. Every single one. I dreaded going in to work and spending hours with these women. I was afraid maybe their insanity would rub off on me.

Then a new hire came along. Although I dreaded meeting another crazy chick I scheduled myself to work with her. Her name was Briana. She freaked me out for several reasons. She felt it necessary (as I did) to actually clean. She was nice. Said sane things. She was kind to the children. I still wasn't convinced though and I decided I would test her by talking to her; we made small talk and she still didn’t scare me. In fact, I liked her. I decided to schedule myself with her for most of my shifts.

We started to get to know each other and she started to freak me out even more. We had lots of similarities. Our couches were the same; our bedroom furniture was the same. The fabric we picked out for our nurseries were the same. We used the same storage bins for our toys. We thought alike. We talked alike (minus her frequent use of the word y’all). Then she told me one of the most important pieces of information that sealed her to me for life: she scrapbooked. It was then that I knew; we were long lost twins…. Or something.

We were fast friends; we worked out together, went to weight watchers together, and drank Dr. Pepper together, scrapbooked together, then suddenly got pregnant together. (This one was not planned, just a very freaky coincidence) We started puking together. We got an ultrasound at fetal photo together and found out we were having little girls together. So obviously we shopped together.

Fast forward 7 ½ years later to today; my best friend, Briana turns thirty. Plus four. This morning I was reflecting on what her existence in this world has meant to me these past years. In the beginning I was grateful for her sanity. That I could work with someone who doesn’t drink out of the children’s sippie cups when people aren’t looking. Then I was grateful to have someone to call and ask how many points were in a chik-fil-a sandwich. Then I was grateful to have a crafty buddy who shared my obsession with collecting the whole line of something just to feel complete. Then I was grateful to be sick and pregnant with someone. Then as our husbands both lost their jobs, I was grateful to have someone to feel my pain, someone to talk/cry to, someone to listen to me. Before I knew it, Briana was simply a person I couldn’t live without. She was someone I talked to every day (and I am not a phone girl). She was someone I felt comfortable crying in front of (and I am not a public cryer) She was a real, true, genuinely kind and giving person. The best kind. I soon came to realize that I had found myself a best friend. In the worst place on earth. Second only to the DMV. And for that reason and that reason only, I thank my lucky stars I ever decided to work in the hole that is the children’s club.

Happy Birthday, Bri. I thank you for your friendship. I thank you for your ears, your shoulder, your heart, and your brain. All things I could not live without.

For all you readers, Go ahead and leave this birthday gal a nice little comment on this big birthday. And hurry up, because she is certainly not getting any younger.