Matching is overrated

My best friend and I were together this weekend and something someone said reminded of us the time she wore one of these:

With one of THESE.
Meaning -- at the same time, as a PAIR.

I'm sure the hilarity of the situation is not lost on you, my savvy, witty readers!

It was a week after she'd had her second baby and she was rushing to the lactation consultant -- newborn in one hand, ushering preschooler with the other and she just jammed her feet into whatever shoes were under her bed. She drove all the way to the appointment, got out of the car, walked into the office, checked in and sat in the waiting room filling out paperwork before she noticed. Truth be told, *she* didn't notice. The receptionist had to POINT IT OUT TO HER. Imagine her utter surprise when she looked down to find that not only was she not wearing two black shoes or two sporty shoes, but two completely different styles of shoes and colors! (Her driving moc was black patent and her Puma was grey.)

In her sleep deprived fog, she had managed not to notice this oversight. And as you may recall, this is the woman who wore heels and met me for lunch while she was basically in active labor. Seriously. This made me realize (again) that having a baby is overwhelming even for people who have done it before and are usually pretty together.

So whenever I start to hyperventilate or work myself up into a lather freaking out about how, with two newborns and a toddler, the house will stay clean or how I'll be able to stay on top of the laundry, or when I will ever sleep again, I just try to remember what happened to my best friend and laugh it off. She's human and so am I. Perfection is not something to strive for, but survival certainly is. So things won't get done, I might not wear matching shoes sometimes, things are going to be crazy for a little while, but we'll make it. There's no other option. The important thing is that we try our very best to enjoy and cherish the time with our children because it is all too fleeting. Before we know it, we'll be going on college visits with them. Ack. Don't get me started.

As for my friend, four months later, I am happy to report I have only spotted her in matching shoes, clean (chic!) clothes and everyone is alive, well, adorable and thriving. She survived and so will I. I'll even go so far to say that someday, maybe, just maybe, I'll meet her for lunch wearing heels (that match).

My best friend's birthday

Friday was my best friend's birthday.  It was also one week from the due date of her second baby.  

To celebrate, I took her out for lunch at one of our favorite meeting places - The Ch.eesecake F.actory.   I walked up to her at the restaurant and immediately I could tell something was different.  I don't know what, but she just looked different...or something. 

We got seated and she said to me, "So I just came from my OB appointment.  I'm 3cm dilated and I've been having contractions since last night."  

So THAT was what was different.  

Um, HELLO!  She was in ACTIVE LABOR.  

And there she was, cool as a cucumber, sipping her strawberry lemonade and helping me decide what to order.  

I kept saying, "Are you okay?  If I need to ask the server to go boil this napkin so I can, you know, CATCH YOUR BABY, you have to tell me!"

And she'd say "No, I'm fine.  I'm okay, really."

Not even a grimace.  Nothing. 

Let me tell you, when I was 3cm and in active labor with Piglet I'm pretty sure I used my paw to try and SWIPE MR. K's HEAD OFF when he reached over to brush some hair off my forehead.  

I am so not kidding. 

We finished lunch around 2:30 and Miss J (aka my best friend) scampers off to pick up her three year old from school.  I kiss her belly and give her a hug and tell her to keep me posted.  I leave her and I'm feeling a very anxious.

At 4:30 I get a text from her that she is heading to the hospital.  

OMG!!!  I just saw her two hours before!

At 6:30 I get a text from her husband saying that she is EIGHT FREAKING CENTIMETERS DILATED.  

What!  

At 8:31 the most precious baby girl EVER is born into the world.  With cheesecake still in her belly, I'm sure.  

And she shares a birthday with her momma.  Adorable.

Can you believe my best friend?  She sat there and had lunch with me and listened to me talk about my morning sickness and upcoming MFM appointment while she, you know, was in SEARING PAIN.  

Just, sip sip sip of the lemonade and a dainty bite of her french fry.  

I'm going to give birth to a LIVE HUMAN BEING in six hours, but no, go on about how you looked at Mr. K's salmon and ran to the bathroom to hurl.

You have got to be kidding me.  This woman is not for real.  But oh my goodness, I am so glad she is because without her... 

I promise you I would be a freak show on a daily basis.  

This is us at 2:30 p.m. on Friday 

No she isn't really a whole foot taller than me.  I was in flats, she was in heels (in LABOR and wearing HEELS.  What is there not to love about this woman?)

This is us at 2:00 p.m. on Saturday.