Hi there, non-mommy friend. 

My beautiful friend who drives a car without crumbs, wears eyeliner and foundation, and has no idea that translucent Shopkins are the living end in a six-year-old’s world. 

I need to speak to you, ever so frankly. 

And let me start by saying giving you the title of “non-mommy” friend is infuriating. I mean, aren’t you moreover, just my FRIEND?

My point exactly. 

Because while there are plenty of polarizing internet rants out there poking fun at the fact that when you act like YOU’RE stressed in your everyday life, us moms want to poke your eyes out with a Gerber spoon, I have a whole other rant in mind. 

One in which I tell you to not let anyone or anything ever make you think you are less of a woman (or can’t be stressed for that matter) because you’re not a Mom– for any number of reasons within or beyond your control. 

An ode if you will, letting you know how amazeballs the other moms and I think you are, regardless of the fact that our lives are understandably quite different. 

Because I need you to know how much I respect and admire you, and how I’ve thought about the fact that you’ll be my go-to example for my daughter one day when I need to describe what a strong, driven, empowering and effective female looks like. 

And while I admit, I spend some days ridiculously jealous of the free-time havin’, sleepin’ in late, kid-free Sunday brunchin’ babe you can be most days, I know there are just as many days you might be jealous of my nightly baby snuggles and boo-boo fixing abilities. 

And that’s okay. 

Because it’s natural and healthy to recognize the goodness others have, and there’s no crime in thinking the grass is greener on the other side sometimes. 

But I also know you’re so much more than those child-free meals and well-rested weekends. 

Because whether you’re not a Mommy because you have other things you want to accomplish before adding that title to your resume, or it’s because you have tirelessly tried to be a Mommy and are hitting the nightmare wall of infertility, I think you’re remarkable. 

Whether some other medical struggle has kept you from having children, or you just haven’t met the right mate to start a family with, I couldn’t respect you more. 

Or if God forbid, you just love doing “you” and focusing on your career and adult relationships, and the thought of wiping butts and noses for the rest of your life sounds far less desirable than traveling, late nights out whenever you want, and a sort of spiritual “knowing” of yourself that I lost somewhere between doing an enema on my 5-year-old and cleaning my house with baby wipes. . .

Well girl. I can’t. 

Cause that is just as admirable as me semi-successfully raising a few humans over here. 

So when the mass media, society, strangers, and even your mother make you think you’re any less of a woman because you aren’t in the Momhood, let me tell you friend– you are everything us Moms need in this world, and everything our daughters need. 

Because you’re the friend that makes me laugh uncontrollably, and the daughter that makes her mother proud beyond words. You’re a kick-ass teacher, or artist, or nurse, or attorney, who is helping people and changing lives every day you wake up. You’re an aunt who will make the lives of those adorable nieces and nephews of yours five million times better just for having you in it. You’re the crazy cousin we all want, and the wife or girlfriend who completes some incredibly lucky person’s life. 

Because non-mommy friend, that title completely sucks. 

You’re just my friend, and one of a hundred women I couldn’t live without.

So can we please throw that “Well she doesn’t have kids…” line in the garbage right now and realize we’re all on the same team?

Because last I checked, we were trying to take over the world, regardless of whether we’re pumping our breasts in a break room or running an international conference call in Yoga pants. 

So let’s throw our diaper bags and clutches to the side, and make sure they can hear us roar ladies.

Who runs the world?

Women without labels, that’s who.

This piece originally appeared at Back Stories First

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Ashley Kleisinger

Bio- Ashley Kleisinger is a mommy, elementary school teacher, and blogger from Northern Kentucky. When not lesson planning in the shower, chasing after her 5- and 8-year-old, or celebrity stalking on eight different forms of social media, you can find her penning her rants, ramblings, and exaggerations of the truth on her Facebook page Back Stories First.

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading