hot mess

On Saturday my sweet baby Elizabeth turned 4. FOUR. To think, just four years ago I was home with a newborn, completely clueless. I had no idea how to change a diaper or what to do when she cried. I was hardly an attractive sight decked out in yoga pants and nursing tank tops, covered from head to toe in spit up. With a permanent ponytail I somehow thought my roots would hide (ummm...they didn't), and I completely swore off any personal grooming that may have been viewed as inconvenient. I believe the term is "hot mess."

Yep, that was me. I fell into the trap I swore I would never get close to. I will never forget the day my friend Allison showed up unexpected on my doorstep.

Ahhh, good old Allison. She was my young, blonde, super adorable, super cute, super fun friend. She pulled into my driveway with the music blaring and the convertible top down. Her curls bounced as she walked up to the door and her outfit was downright slammin'. This girl had it goin on. And here I was in my sweatpants, covered in baby puke. A not-so-hot mess.

When I opened the door her jaw dropped. I knew it. I had let her down. We had talked about this...how we agreed to never let this "hot mess" thing take over. We vowed to always be cute and put together, and to never, ever, ever let our true hair color shine through. I was the deal breaker.

My initial instinct was to run like Forrest Gump and leave her alone with my baby for the day. Surely her fishnets would not survive an hour with my kid, let alone that gorgeous hair of hers. She didn't stand a chance, especially with it being so long. I don't care what you say, a baby will find a way to get spit up on your back. It's a proven fact.

The only thing that kept me from running that day was the Chinese take-out she had in one hand, and the gallon of chocolate ice cream she had in the other. Now if that isn't a good friend, I don't know what is.

We spent the afternoon together and she forced me out of my sweatpants. She hijacked my cell phone, called my hairdresser, and emailed my husband to let him know he would be babysitting on Saturday...my roots just couldn't go another week. Best of all, she made me feel like me again.

It's amazing how things have changed in just four short years.Now that I'm back to normal, my dear friend Allison is expecting her first baby. I can't wait to strut my stuff, armed with chicken lo mein and mint chocolate chip. At least if she runs I'll be prepared.