hot messiness...

the other evening, as i was standing in front of my loving husband and partner, i had a revelation of sorts.  it came when his face contorted as he stared at my baby belly, all decked out in my current favorite evening attire... a tank top, a holey gray sweater and velour pajama pants.  at first i thought he was admiring the beauty of motherhood, the miracle of how a woman can carry a living being inside of her... you know, something corny like that. 

but no... he stared, smiled a little and asked,
"how did you manage to get deodorant marks on the front of your belly?"

i tried looking at my tummy, but alas, the marks were below my line of vision (like my toes, knees, or underside of my huge belly, etc.), so i just shrugged because he and i both know the answer.  this is how i was made.  i'm a hot mess and a half.  it's a day in the life of me.  no bigs.

we had a good laugh and then i meandered off somewhere off in our house, wondering to myself just how much of a hot mess i really am.  i say this with true sincerity and humor... it's kind of something i've come to love and appreciate about myself... even if it's not perfect.  it's me and i'm ok with it.

for instance... the first time i went out and bought maternity pants, i was so relieved to be fitting into something so forgiving and relaxed.  on monday morning i was so excited to don my new attire, i felt like a new woman... no longer crammed into her old pants with a belly band.  i arrived to work, hair done, make-up pristine... even lip gloss, i never wear lip gloss.  i felt half-way decent looking.  another woman was chatting away with me.  as i turned to go about my business she called me back over to her and reached behind my leg.  RIIIIIIIPPPP!  she handed me a sticker, the big long sticker that proudly displayed the size of my pants to the world that had been running down the back of my hamstring.  ummm... yup.

but it's not just when i've been pregnant.  a couple of years ago i showed up to work with two different types of flip flops on.  a plain black one from old navy, and a fancy shiny one with glam on it on the other foot.  i didn't even notice until i was at work.  by then, it was too late and i had to work all day with little munchkins sitting at my feet asking, "mrs. K?  why are you wearing two different shoes?"  i don't know children!  your teacher is a complete airhead.  just listen to the story please and stop worrying about my feet!

once, whilst running with my running buddy and furry bff (trooper), i stepped on a stick with my left foot, which sent the other part of the stick shooting up in front of my right foot.  one second i was happily chatting with my dear friend, the next minute i was laying on the pavement... my dog looking worriedly at me as i laid there laughing. 

the best part is that not to long after that happened, i was running with my running partner and another dear friend and we were talking about said fall.  of course, my foot hit a clump of dirt and i was sent flying.  actually, it was more like i twisted my body and rolled onto my back like a turtle on its shell.  it was amazing and graceful all at once... at least in my eyes.  we laughed about it for days.

during my 2nd trimester, i got up in the middle of the night for a bathroom break.  (when am i NOT taking one of those?)  on the way back from the bathroom i tripped over my in-laws dog, who i had forgotten we were dogsitting.  fortunately, it was a gentle trip, i landed on all fours and started laughing to myself in the darkness. (don't worry, no creature... the dog or my unborn child or me, were harmed in the making of that instant) i don't even think kjaer woke up for that moment of glory.

but it's not just thrills and spills that make me this way...
 there's plenty of other little things that make me a hot mess. 

truth be told, i've always been a little like this.  even though my mother would claw anyone's eyes out who said otherwise, my elementary days were the epitome of hot messiness.  thick glasses, missing teeth, a perm with feathered sides and poofy bangs.  i was hot.  there was no denying it.  

in middle school and high school i got better at disguising my hot messiness.  but didn't most of us?  we spent (at least i did) most of the time faking our way through those years, looking as cool and pulled together as we could.  even in my later high school years, when i tried rejecting the mainstream stuff and going goth (or what i thought was goth), i was still concerned with covering up my imperfections.  i had to look like a cool non-mainstream girl who didn't care what others thought.  but i did, secretly, i did.

college was a whole new set of hot messiness.  those of you who know me, know that those aren't my most glorious years due to my own mistakes.  but nonetheless, they changed me and made me the woman i am today, so for that i'm grateful. 

as the last decade has whizzed by (i can't even believe it's been 11 years since i graduated from college) i've started going back to my roots.  you know... the little geeky girl with the perm.  and to be honest, i kind of like that deep down, i'm still her.  goofy, ditzy and just silly.  first and foremost, because it lends itself to many funny moments that keep me laughing.  secondly, it entertains those around me who love me.  i think my husband wouldn't know what to do with himself if i was perfect and pulled together.  i think he adores those moments when he shakes his head and says, of course you just did that!  and i smile back at him like, yes i did... but you married me so who's the sucker now?!?!?  

for the longest time i used to hide those pictures of myself, shameful of what people would think of nerdy monica and her weirdness.  but now i just know that it's how God made me... a little dose of sunshine with toilet paper stuck to her shoe. so laugh all you want at the hairs of mine that just won't smooth down, the piece of lettuce in my teeth; i'll be here all week... and the rest of my life... trying to embrace what makes me real and tangible.  i'm not perfect and the more i figure that out, the more i like who God made me... and thank goodness!

i mean, how else would you get a good giggle in if i didn't show
up to work with only one eyebrow penciled in?

peace and chicken grease