Mom tucks me in when I’ve had a bit too much to drink. Mom wakes me just in time to make it to class in the morning. As I sit writing this, Halloween approaches and Mom is reminding me to “not wear that small dress from freshman year”. I remember my entrance into his room that Halloween, in a typical tight costume freshman girls wear. Without even a hello, he scolded me to “put some pants on!”. Looking back, I probably should have listened to him. Then I would not have been so cold.

The "mom" friend of each friend group deserve endless amounts of praise.

He made me come to the library with him today, because he wants to ensure I get my revisions done. Mom is my best friend, Mitch. Mitch did not just get the title of the mom friend, he earned it. Never have I known anyone more responsible and studious. With shiny, brown hair to his shoulders (now chopped off-- that was probably a good call) and an old, faded Ralph Engelstad Arena hat always atop his head, he did not appear nurturing. Yet, I stumbled into his dorm one day anyway.

Due to my newfound freedom freshman year, I ran Brannon’s halls rampantly and engaged almost anyone in conversation. On more than one occasion I conversed with my favorite Canadian named Ryley who usually reeked of chewing tobacco. I can recall one night he and I discussed Cristiano Ronaldo’s underwear line for maybe 45 minutes.

This new companion ultimately led me to find my perfect mom friend. He and his neighbor invited me over to watch football on a Sunday, and I took it as my entrance to the friend group. That Sunday I hopped up the gray, unappealing stairs to the first floor of Brannon. Ryley and three other boys promptly greeted me with beer and more beer. Locked up in the small dorm suite, hidden from RAs of course, I experienced my first real football Sunday. It consisted of yelling at the TV screen (by them, not me) and learning how to properly shotgun a beer.

As all his roommates taught me this amazing talent and made obscene amounts of noise, Mitch had hidden out in the library since the sun rose. Tired after a long day’s work, he opened his suite door to the sight of me trying (and failing) my newly acquired "skill". My best-friend-to-be, a stranger at the time, inched past me to get to his room and once again conceal himself from the festivities.

When I triumphantly exited the other room, I wandered over into Mitch’s room. “Hey…” he sighed reluctantly. He sat at his small, wooden dorm room desk, which appeared even smaller when I noticed his tall stack of books and papers scattered about. Without consent, I helped myself to his rather nice, tan suede futon. And just like that, I magically deterred the most hardworking person I know from his homework. He let me interrupt him for almost an hour until I fell asleep and he threw a blanket on me for the first, but certainly not last, time -- picking up his mom responsibilities immediately.

Now we sit in the library night after night, reminiscing on those days from freshman year. Unwavering, he pours over his biology and chemistry books, while I attempt to understand classic literature and spell out lesson plans. He still pushes me to study and be productive, acting as the mom all these years later. He sat and listened to me whine about my breakup, and he drives me to work when I misplace my car. The mom of every friend group deserves the world -- thank you for all you do!

Thank you to all the mom friends out there! Us children need you.