We All Need a Hot Mess Friend

It was one of those days. The kind of day when you wake up already running behind and the only thing that makes you move a little faster is the lure of a steaming cup of java. But, alas, there was no creamer left. I don’t do coffee without creamer. So, I made the painful decision to go without my brew until I could get to the store later. 

I started to wake up my kiddos for school and, immediately, my youngest began to flail and scream about her dress being the wrong shade of pink. I mean, how dare I not know what the RIGHT shade of pink is? I reason that she doesn’t have to wear a dress every single day and that maybe pants and a shirt would be a better fit. Oh no, she wasn’t having that. She had made up her mind and even threw all of the clothes out of her drawers in an effort to find tights that match the exact shade of pink she had to wear that day. Did I mention I had not had any coffee yet? 

Feeling left out from the crazy, my boys loudly complained (in a very disagreeable tone of voice) that they couldn’t find their socks. Somehow that was my problem? My other daughter then proceeded to fall back asleep on the sofa despite the fact that we were extremely short on time. I’m not sure that the threat of being late to school really mattered to her at that moment. 

I opened the front door to walk outside to the car and was met with grey storm clouds and pouring down rain. Seriously? Yes, seriously. #MamaNeedsHerJava

We finally piled into the car (bad moods clearly intact) and made the drive to school. I dropped the kids off with a smile through gritted teeth and then found myself questioning my agenda for the rest of the day. I had planned to run some errands and do some house cleaning because the laundry was literally swallowing my bedroom whole. However, the unexpected frustrations the morning had brought my way made me just want to go back home and crawl into the bed. 

Couldn’t I pull the covers up over my head and pretend that it’s still night-time? Couldn’t I sleep away my irritation and ignore the glaring problem, otherwise known as responsibility, that is adulting? I could just imagine I’m on a beach in Bali with a margarita in my hand and the salty breeze in my hair. My eyes started to close…Zzzz…and then the phone rang.

I noticed that it was a call from my friend who is going through a hard time. A hard time like losing a loved one, not a hard time like having a stressful morning. Should I answer? Man, I was almost about to dip my pruny toes in the hot sand of my dreams.

I reluctantly picked up the phone. She wanted to know if I could come over for a little bit. I thought about my hot mess self and wondered if I had it in me to leave my sun soaked imagination for her. I couldn’t think of a good reason not to go. So I took the disheveled and decaffeinated version of me to her house on this “rain, rain, go away” kind of day. 

She opened the door and before she could say a word I apologized for my unbathed and unmade condition. She actually laughed at my apology and said she was glad that I looked a little displaced and out of sorts cause that’s exactly how she felt at the moment. She needed me to be real because she was going through some real stuff. To think I almost put on makeup and clean clothes that morning…

Apparently God knew that my unkempt self was exactly the type of encouragement my friend would need and exactly the type of freedom I would need. It’s not that I couldn’t be real if I had been a little bit more put together. It’s just that I didn’t have to be put together to be real. It’s both/and, NOT one or the other. 

The funny thing is I didn’t have it in me to clean up my messy self that day even if I had wanted to. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t really have a choice in the matter given the set of hurried circumstances my morning gave me. Because of that, the conversation flowed easily and laughter was shared between us. There was no expectation of performance on me or her. We both needed the other to embrace her hot mess side so we could each have the strength to put ourselves together the next day for the adulting we would inevitably have to do on our own. 

And in case the coffee addicts reading this are still wondering… My friend lives next to a Starbucks. Can anyone say Hazelnut Soy Latte with an extra shot? #MamaFinallyGotHerFix