Hot Mess Mama

Baby Mama, a photo by Theen … on Flickr.

So Friday morning was one of those mornings.
The one where you just hop out of the shower only to see that your husband is calling. With your hair sopping wet and a towel haphazardly thrown about you, you rush to pick up the phone to hear your husband tell you that 3 men are on their way to the house to clean the windows. “You mean, they’re literally on their way, right this minute?” “Um, yeah. Sorry if I didn’t tell you that earlier.”

With that, I quickly hung up the phone (after saying bye and I love you, of course;) and froze, giving myself a few moments to recollect myself and think through what “3 men are on their way to the house” meant for my immediate future. First things first, I rushed to my closet to get dressed (good first step, Nikole). I then ran downstairs and gave the house a once-over. Thankfully, John and I just happened to clean the house the night before (our once-a-week attempt), and that was the only thing keeping me from totally freaking out about the sudden arrival of 3 male strangers.

Knowing, though, that they were going to be heading to our room to clean our bedroom window, I quickly ran back upstairs to throw the piles of clothes on our floor into our closet and to throw the comforter on top of the tossed pajamas and disheveled sheets. I glanced over at our dresser and saw something personal that also needed to be put away. Glad I caught that.

As I was heading back down the stairs, I heard ‘the knocking’. I dashed into the bathroom and slapped my cheeks a few times to give them some color (my face is blah post-shower!) and tried to walk calmly and coolly to greet these three strange men.

As I welcomed them in, it hit me that I would have to find another place for the next few hours as our youngest daughter, Eden, wouldn’t be able to take a nap while our windows were being cleaned. So then I frantically run around the house trying to collect everything I might need for the next few hours for wherever we might end up. So I’m tossing diapers, wipes, butt cream, snacks, drinks, lunch, spare clothes, make up bags, brush, and more onto the kitchen table (this is when a diaper bag would come in handy). With these men going throughout my whole house to check the windows, I’m just wanting to get out asap.

Thankfully, my mom just happened to be home from work that day as she and my dad were heading out of town that night. So I ended up calling her and asking if Eden and I could crash at her place until the window guys were done at our place. A friend graciously offered to watch Mercy, and as I dropped her off, I realized I didn’t grab any of the girls’ winter gear (coats, hats, mittens… nada). *sigh*

It was one of those days that remind me that I still totally don’t have it together (though, I’m thinking ‘having it together’ is truly an elusive myth), and that while I am feeling more free than ever to be raw and real, there’s still that part of me that wants to present myself a little more neat and put together to certain individuals (but 3 window cleaning guys? I mean, come on, Nikole;).

To my husband’s credit, he probably did tell me that guys were coming to clean our windows Friday morning, but I am just terrible at making logical connections (ie: if the guys are coming in the morning, find out what time so as to figure out if it’s better to shower before they come or to just shower the night before; you know, details like that).

As much as I like to think I’ve grown up and matured and have become more of a responsible adult, it’s moments like these that I realize I’m just a kid. I look like I’m 30, but I’m really 12, and I have no idea how I’ve made it this far in life.

Being reminded of such can be humorous or slightly discouraging. On this particular morning, it was a little bit of both. I am just a kid but I have grown up in so many ways. The short of it: I’m very much a work in process, and that’s okay. We’re all a hot mess, aren’t we? 🙂