In a recent chat with a friend of mine, I came to the realization that I am blessed to have a pretty amazing support network.
“So, how’s your daughter?” Jeananne inquired.
“You mean the turd?” came my cheeky reply.
“Uh-oh. Okay. Tomorrow. Coffee.”
Jeananne is a true friend, indeed. She knows, she really knows. Like me, she has grown children whose decisions have often left us confused. She understands my frustration.
Everyone needs a friend like that, and I think it ought to have its own title and Facebook setting too. Simply calling them “Friend” doesn’t really cover it, and I just can’t bring myself to use “BFF” with a straight face.
What I’m talking about is a top-tier relationship; people who deserve supreme acknowledgment. These folks are First-Rate-Friends or FRFs (Pronounced: Furffs). It is possible to have more than one Furff. In fact, it’s generally better if you have multiple Furffs…for different situations.
Furff qualifications can fall along the following lines:
1. Someone whom you have known for several years and with whom you have mutual blackmail material.
2. Someone who has been in the room with you for childbirth, tattoo application, or removal. (Super-Furff status is granted if they have been there for all three)
3. Someone who will take you to, or pick you up from the airport at 4:00 a.m.
4. Someone who knows your weird habits and idiosyncrasies yet never mocks you publicly. (privately is ok, because of item #1)
5. A Furff can be a family member, but being a family member is not qualifying criteria in itself.
Most importantly, Furffs know when your kids are being turds, but wait for you to say it first. They know when their own kids are turds too, and concede that fact completely. They know you well enough to know if you need a margarita and a meal or chocolate chip cookie dough and a bottle of Bailey’s.
My personal Furffs have existed in many forms throughout my life. My Bestie Furff is the pal that I have known for the past thirty years; a stinging reminder of our age. She and I have been to and through mutual weddings, births, divorces, deaths of parents…and the biggest challenge ever; teenage daughters! That is a Furffdom for the ages!
It should be noted that spouses can also be Furffs, but it is a shaky status and subject to revocation:
“I’m having coffee with Jeananne tomorrow, I need to vent about The Daughter.” I informed Darling Husband at dinner.
“What is going on with The Daughter?” He inquired.
“You mean the turd?!? I’ll tell you what’s going on…she is out there in the world making ill-advised decisions with no grasp of long term consequences…”
“Know what her problem is?” he cut me off as my crazy train was chugging full steam.
“Yes, she won’t listen…”
“That’s not it, but you’re probably right about that too.” He countered.
“Oh, no. No, no, no…. I know where you are going, so don’t.” I cautioned.
“Yep. Not hard to figure out, really. She’s just…” this is where he jeopardized both his Furffdom and his health.
“Don’t. Say. It.”
“She’s her mother’s daughter.” Status revoked.
Furff coffee chat the next morning was fueled by major caffeine and minor chagrin. We laughed about our kids while we determined that sometimes adult children need to make their own decisions in order to learn life’s lessons. The rest of the visit was most enjoyable.
“So, how’s the husband?” She asked next.
“You mean the butthead?”
Some days there just isn’t enough coffee.