My mom is the first person I call with anything—from life-altering events to non-issues (that could possibly turn into issues later, you never know). She’s always willing to listen or lend a helping hand – no matter how lame the situation. We go to wine festivals together each year, serve as the ultimate shopping buddies for one another and constantly laugh at the weirdest inside jokes. The lady is the epitome of a best friend.
It wasn’t always like this, however. As a child/teen, my mom was a straight-up parent who policed whose houses I could visit, and who wouldn’t let me my dye my hair purple. I think the dynamic changed as I prepared to go away to college – I’m not exactly sure.