I lied to my daughter about being her best friend

As I finished scooping the last batch of cookies from the cookie sheet, my 10-year-old daughter rushed into the kitchen with the most excited look on her face. I love it when she seems so happy.

"Guess who is my best friend?" she quizzed me.

"I don't know, who?" I answered.

"You, Mom!" she said.

With a spatula in my left hand, I reached over and gave her a big side squeeze with my right hand.

"You are my best friend too!" I told her right away and kissed her forehead.

And it wasn't until hours later that I realized what I said was not the truth.

Maybe it was the hot batch of cookies that sparked her friendship declaration. It might be because she's my only daughter in a house full of boys, and we've got to stick together.

I love her so much, and I'm so close to her. But I realized I don't want to be her best friend and she can't be my best friend. I want to be her mom. What is a word for a mom who is also a true friend but is really the mom? That is what I want to be. Just a "mom friend."

NOT BESTIES

I can't be her best friend because I expect her to get great grades and load the dishwasher. I don't let her have sleepovers, and I make her fold her laundry. I can't be her best friend because I'll ground her some day if she sneaks out, and I'll take away her future cellphone if she posts things she shouldn't. When she starts driving, I'll make her pay for her gasoline and probably even her car insurance. Those are not things a best friend does.

And she can't be my best friend either — no matter how much fun it would be. My best friend knows my secrets and my insecurities. She knows the pains from my past and the fears in my future. These are not things my daughter is ready to know. These are not things I want my daughter to know. My daughter cannot be my confidante.

My daughter needs a best friend who can sit by her on the bus or have her back when rumors fly at recess.

'MOM FRIEND' PROMISES

It's idealistic for us to think we can be best friends with our children. A true best-friend relationship with our kids would be unhealthy, but I can be a "mom friend." As a "mom friend," these are the things I promise:

1. Your secrets are safe with me, except for the few I'll have to tell your dad, but he and I will keep them safe together. You can trust me.

2. I will create time for you. You are important to me, and spending time with you is one of the best parts of my life.

3. We will have dance parties mostly so I can remind you I am still fun.

4. I will help you, but I won't do it for you. You've got my support and encouragement — always.

5. You will know my expectations, and you won't always like them, but I'll hold you to them because it's my way of helping you be the best you can be.

6. I'll embarrass you. I won't always mean to, but I guarantee I will.

Last month, I drove my daughter and her two best friends from school to get some frozen yogurt. She sat away from me, on the other side of the store, laughing with her besties while they ate their fro-yo. I watched them from a distance and smiled. And on the way home, I cranked up the volume and I started singing along. I glanced in the rear view mirror and to my surprise, the girls in the back seat did not sing with me. In fact, by the look on my daughter's face, I realized I was just the crazy, embarrassing mom.

And that is exactly how I want it to be.

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Nicole Carpenter is on a mission to reach out to all the moms who feel lost or buried within motherhood. All the moms who feel overwhelmed. All the moms who feel guilty that they are not good enough, wonder about the dreams they left behind, and seek a balance between identity and motherhood.. She is a professional speaker and mentor for mompreneuers. Nicole and her husband are raising four children, 8 years and younger, including twin toddlers.