My teenage daughter is my best friend - and I wouldn’t have it any other way
From dating debriefs to pyjama nights, one mum explains why her unusually close bond with her teenage daughter feels so special.
- Victoria Richards
Published: October 13, 2026 at 1:08 PM
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Last Saturday was my idea of a 'dream' day: my best friend and I tidied the house together while playing loud music on the record player (Nirvana and Radiohead) because we both had ‘dates’ coming round.
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We swapped make-up and helped choose each other’s outfits and talked about how nervous we felt. We teased each other and hugged, to wish each other luck. We even planned what one of us might say or joke about with the other, if either of us needed to make the situation less awkward.
At two in the afternoon, her boyfriend knocked on the door, armed with an adorable gift – and at four, so did mine. We spent a couple of hours together in separate rooms, before bidding them both goodbye. Then we hurried upstairs, giggling, for face masks and a debrief.
Finally, we got into my bed and snuggled up under the duvet in our pyjamas and watched Married at First Sight Australia. It was, all in, the perfect ‘girls’ night’ – but with a difference, because the person I was doing this all with (and the one I sincerely call my “best friend”) is my 14-year-old daughter, Emi.
There’s nothing quite like the bond I have with my teenage daughter. It’s like having a best friend, housemate, confidante and gossipy work colleague, all in one.
Far from the authoritarian – yet standard – style of parenting I grew up with in the 1980s, thanks to being born to boomer parents, I’ve adopted an altogether warmer and closer approach to raising my own two children. And while I adore the relationship I have with my nine-year-old son, I’ve recently realised that there’s nothing quite like the bond I have with my teenage daughter.
It’s like having a best friend, housemate, confidante and gossipy work colleague, all in one. And the most brilliant thing about it? I get to hear about (and witness) the intricacies and intimacies of her life, every single day.
And it’s not just her, either: because I have effectively (and inevitably) “adopted” her best friend, too. I call her my “second daughter” – and because she comes over every single day on the way to and home from school, the bond we have feels just as precious.
It doesn’t feel like your average mother-daughter closeness – and it’s not something I see mimicked in the households of my friends.
In fact, it’s become increasingly common for me to stumble across them both in my bedroom, getting ready for school in the mornings, or cuddling up beneath my duvet in front of the TV. On one recent joyful and memorable Saturday night, the three of us ordered takeaway pizza and ate it, wrapped in blankets, while we watched two classic nineties movies, back-to-back (one of which was Scream – and as you can imagine, we did).
It doesn’t feel like your average mother-daughter closeness – and it’s not something I see mimicked in the households of my friends who are in two-parent families, either. To me, it feels symptomatic of the unique closeness you can probably only achieve as a single-parent – and crucially, as a mother of girls.
Nothing is 'off limits,' no question is 'too rude' or 'too difficult' for her (or her friend) to ask. If they want frank advice, they know I’ll give it. The biggest gift I can give them is my honesty.
But that doesn’t mean it’s a case of 'anything goes,' either. My parenting style may be gentle – I’ve never yet had to impose any classic punishments, like 'time out' or 'grounding' – but my daughter knows I feel strongly about her being safe. She’s not allowed out after dark by herself, and she doesn’t drink or smoke or vape in secret, as some of her friends do.
She’s not allowed to go to mixed sleepovers or be alone with her boyfriend without an adult present – and we’ve talked through all the possible dangers and consequences of issues such as sex and contraception, consent and coercive control, assault and spiked drinks.
We even have an “open door” policy in the bedroom and bathroom – and it was her idea!
I don’t even check her phone, because (quite simply) I don’t need to. She self-reports when she sees something inappropriate – and she always tells me about it. In fact, she pretty much tells me everything. And I do the same with her. We even have an “open door” policy in the bedroom and bathroom – and it was her idea!
My 'no holds barred' parenting approach started young – my daughter knew what periods were when she was three, and what Mooncups were by four and by the same age, she was using all the right terminology for her body – there was no silly 'foo-foo' or 'noo-noo' or 'special flower' talk in my house.
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I strongly believe that if we want our kids to feel in control of their bodies and autonomy, then we have to give them the language they need to say “no."
But that doesn’t mean other people always understand. I still remember being hauled into nursery for a safeguarding meeting, because she’d mentioned her "vagina." Some people seem to believe that sheltering kids keeps them safe – when I believe it’s just the opposite.
It is a true joy to spend time together. And I appreciate it all the more because I know it’s so fleeting.
As she grows and becomes older and more eloquent, as she develops her own strong opinions and beliefs – and yes, they sometimes clash with mine, though that’s rare, for we share the same political ideals – it is a true joy to spend time together. And I appreciate it all the more because I know it’s so fleeting.
In a few years, she’ll be off to university, and I’ll mourn the loss of her funny, fiery, feminist and frankly hilarious presence – her offers to plait my hair, her borrowing all of my hoodies and mascaras and the dinners we cook together, like housemates and equals, every single night.
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But, in the meantime, it feels like a privilege and an honour – truly – to get to live, side by side, with the incredible young woman who is growing up so fast, right in front of me. To know that in some small part, I had something to do with it. To call her my best friend, and to know she’d say the same thing back.
About the author: Victoria Richards Victoria Richards is a writer, editor, agony aunt and poet with 20+ years of journalism experience across radio, TV and newspapers. She lives in London with her two children and a black cat.
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Victoria Richards
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