Embracing the hobo look

Remember this piece of crap post about me doing Spring Cleaning?  

I have literally accomplished one item off that list. It must have slipped my mind when I wrote that post, that I'm a lazy S.O.B. who would rather spend all her spare time watching Lost while drinking coffee. Yes, coffee. Remember that other piece of crap post I wrote about having to quit coffee? Well I did in fact give it up but then the stupid time change came along and blew that idea all to hell.

Any professional organizers/cleaners out there looking to take on my house pro bono?

 I have a cute kid that could entertain you / undo everything you have done while you work.... eh, EH?

I've booked Friday off work as my 'personal day' so I can clean my m.f-ing house and prep for a super fun day I have planned on Saturday (more details on that later).

But the real reason for this post was to share a few thoughts on looking like crap and not giving a damn.

I went out last Friday night.

Like went, went out.

To a bar.

I can't tell you the last time I did that. It was a fun time. I drank some drinks, I laughed, I gossiped, I caught up with friends I hadn't seen in a while. It was glorious.

 One of the best parts of going out for me these days is the getting ready to go out.

 B.C. (before child) I dreaded getting ready. Picking an outfit took forever and doing my hair and makeup felt like a menotinous chore.

A.C. (after child) I love it. I lock myself in my bathroom, turn on some tunes and go to town.

The reason I love it so much is because I so rarely get to do it.

This ecard sums it up pretty well:

via

Before Quinn came along I NEVER went out in public without at least some makeup on. Nowadays I'm lucky if I have time to slap on some undereye concealer and mascara. 

But you know what?

 I love it.

I love not fretting about how I look all the time.
 The time I used to spend getting ready is now spent keeping a kid alive, nourished and loved.

 Its freeing.

 Plus, I feel like a supermodel when I do get some time to doll myself up instead of always feeling in a rut about my appearance.

Yes, I look like a piece of poop the majority of the time but is my kid alive, dressed, fed and happy? If the answer to any of those is yes, its a good day.

xo, Vicky