woman dating woman Dear Gia, Aiden, and Trace, I apologize in advance for all the wacky things your mothers have made you do and *will* make you do in the future. It never pans out quite like we hope it will. The painting sessions, the beach trips, the christmas light strolls, movies, games, cookie decorating, zoo, museum, exploring adventures, and on and on. It. never. goes. as. planned. ..but what I just realized is this: things never went as planned for your mothers as well. All of OUR shopping trips, movies dates, dinners, vacations, club moments, drunken arguments, eye rolling conversations, roommate fun, roommate hell, christmases, birthdays, thanksgivings, plane rides, weddings, baby showers, and births. you. name. it. none of those things ever went exactly as we hoped, for better or worse, and there were plenty of meltdowns and tantrums along the way for your mothers as well. We are wild, passionate, women, and with that comes a little bit of crazy. The three of you will love each other without even realizing that that\'s what it is, because you\'ve always been family, you\'ve always been friends. You will fight, and kick, and scream - and HATE to share sometimes - but you will do it because someone, somewhere, says you should. You will find more humor in sitting on a bench outside Color Me Mine, than you will on the inside painting plates for Santa, just as we found more fun sitting on a bed, laughing, than we ever did that night as we left for who-knows-where. You won\'t remember the destination, but you will (you will) remember those moments it took you to get there. You are stuck with the two people who sit beside you. Lucky- and stuck. I see the similarities in your relationships, and wonder if they will parallel your mothers exactly. It doesn\'t really matter if they do, but I\'m curious all the same. My point? Be silly. Have fun. Laugh on park benches and giggle while you essentially tell us to f@#k off as we plead for you not to jump in puddles and most definitely, not to sit in them. Love the moments the three of you share that we couldn\'t possibly understand, because we aren\'t three or four years old. Because we aren\'t you. Because we once knew someone just like you, and you and you.
