How to stay friends after one of you has kids
It’s not always easy; but it’s possible 👭
I just returned from a long weekend in California visiting my best friend from college and it was exactly what I needed.
The perfect mixture of bike rides, iced lattes, beach hangs, independent book stores, and early bedtimes watching Bravo and eating red licorice.
All with someone who knows me *almost* better than I know myself. Heaven.
Melanie lives in the Bay Area with her husband and their sweet yellow lab, Hunter. We’ve known each other for over 20 years, but have not lived in the same state since we were roommates in college. Despite the physical distance, we’ve stayed close and have witnessed every iteration of one another throughout our adult lives. Messy breakups. City moves. Career pivots. Big swings that never paid off. And bigger swings that really did.
It’s not easy staying connected across time zones. Like any long-distance friendship, ours ebbs and flows—there are phases of constantly exchanging memes, followed by months of silence—and then somehow, magically, we pick up right where we left off.
But of all my friendships, I’m especially proud of this one. Not just because we’ve spanned geography and time, but because I have two young kids and Mel has chosen not to have children. And while that might seem like a minor demographic detail, it’s actually a massive differentiator—not just in our routines, but in how we spend our time and how we move through the world.
I love my friends who are child-free. They are interesting, hilarious, ambitious, generous, independent baddies who bring so much joy to my life. It’s a damn delight to have long-standing friendships with people who have made different choices than you and who oftentimes remind you of who you used to be before you became a walking trash receptacle for your children’s granola bar wrappers and dirty tissues.
They also somehow give the most grounded and thoughtful parenting advice. Like they’re able to be rational and have perspective and empathy all at once. I loved this quote from a Romper IG post/article a few weeks back:
That said, I’ve watched a lot of friendships struggle after one person becomes a parent. In fact, I think it’s probably the (unintentional) norm. The friend with kids assumes the other one thinks they’re boring or broken or now only interested in breast pumps and Bluey. Meanwhile, the friend without kids assumes they’re interrupting naptime, or worries their pal won’t care about their stories or life updates. Then nobody says anything and silence wins.
There’s a great NPR article that really gets at this tension. One quote in particular stuck with me:
"We are not meant to only be friends with people exactly like us. It doesn't make us more interesting or curious. We need people who are living life differently.” — Anne Helen Petersen,
So what can we actually do—proactively—to keep our friendships from quietly dissolving when our lives start to look wildly different? Here’s what I’ve learned:
Speak up (even if it feels awkward…which it probably will)
If you feel left out or misunderstood, say something. Not necessarily in some dramatic confrontation—but in a “Hey, I miss you. Can we talk?” way. Friendships evolve. But most of the time, your friend has no idea you’re feeling weird. Naming the thing helps both of you navigate it. And even though that brief moment can feel awkward, making it to the other side of clarity and vulnerability feels so freakin good.
Stay curious about who your friend is now
Whether they’re obsessed with country music, a new relationship, trail running <looks at Mel>, or the Montessori method, lean in. Don’t just reminisce about who you were in your 20s—stay curious about who you’re both becoming. Ask questions. Remember the details (their current dietary restrictions, the names of their newer friends). Show up for their present-day self.
Love on their people
If your friend has kids, it means a lot when you remember their names, birthdays, or that their eldest is currently fixated on volcanoes. You don’t need to become a Kid Person if that’s not who you are, but small gestures and specific questions go a long way. It reminds me of one of my favorite SNL sketches:
Don’t assume they won’t understand
Your child-free friend might not live your reality, but that doesn’t mean they can’t hold it. Good friends aren’t mirrors—they’re anchors. Trust them with your hard stuff, even if it’s messy or domestic or boring. And vice versa. I still care about the beef that my single friend has with her crazy coworker. Update me! Tell me! PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU! And I hope they care about my imaginary one-sided tension with Rival Mom at school pickup (you shouldn’t though…it’s pretty pathetic).
Stop keeping score
Friendships aren’t transactional. If you're constantly counting who texted last or who got who a better birthday gift…stop. Some seasons are uneven. Some years are chaotic. Shit happens and REAL friends know that even though you love each other, we *all* have busy, chaotic lives and conflicting priorities. The important thing is showing up when it counts—and giving each other the benefit of the doubt when you can’t.
Choose friendship
You don’t drift into lifelong friendship. Two people decide into it. You keep choosing each other, over and over. Even when you’re exhausted or slightly annoyed. Even when your day-to-day lives or spending habits look nothing alike. Even when the only time you have is a 10-minute voice memo while waiting in the school pick-up line.
Ultimately, friendships aren’t made of perfectly aligned schedules or shared demographics. They’re made of care. Curiosity. A little bit of effort and a whole lot of grace.
And of course sharing red licorice and memes doesn’t hurt either.
Love this! 💜