A couple weekends ago, I planned to attend an Oscar party. And, I actually held true to those plans and went (because Sunday nights are usually very low key).
Then, I told Crystal (the hostess) I was going to be late and show up in jeans (even though it was supposed to be fancy). I don’t have fancy clothes. I don’t do fancy clothes.
Not too soon before the party was starting, I remembered I had a fancy black dress from a LONG time ago (like pre-#1). I didn’t think it would fit (the last time I wore it, #1 was two months old and I had to peal it off myself…not good for the post-partum body). But, I went for it and I could actually zip it and breathe in it.
Of course, Spanx are my friend, and I could have used a much smaller bra (or heck, even gone without), but I went for it. It was fun to hang out with a bunch of women and just relax and watch the show. We even had a little red carpet action, too.
It’s nice to glam it up every once and a while, but my reality is here way more often. Cooking dinner. Apron on with the Ergo over the top because somebody wants to be held. And, wiggled and danced and bounced and sung to. Simultaneously.
The reality is pretty good, too. Because one day, she won’t flail her arms and squeal when she sees the Ergo. And one day she won’t want me to hold her while I cook dinner. One day, she won’t be a baby anymore (and if you tell me that 12 months is no longer a baby, I’m throwing tomatoes at you).