This morning I scared myself. I almost left the house with 'home hair' and forgot to put on my 'work hair.' It's like the hair equivalent of leaving the house with your slippers on.
Since becoming a mom, I've gone to work with various stains on my clothes, spit-up being the most common, nose boogies too -- sorry for the gross-out factor, but it's true.
I've found myself trying hard to be taken seriously in very important meetings at work, only to look down and see a slap-dash smattering of various gooey crud from my little angels. Thank goodness I wear a lot of print shirts these days! Plain white T's are out for me.
I can get through a day with small spots on my clothes. What I can't do is leave the house with my hair in a big ol' knotty mess piled atop my head. That little gem I save for my family.
My poor husband.
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