Night and Day

Today at work I wore a black and white patterned pencil skirt with a black tucked in button down. I paired that with red peep-toe heels, a wide red bracelet, and a short black, white, and silver double-strand pearl necklace. I clicked my high heels up and down the hall, busy, borderline competent, and generally having a good day. I'm working on the second drafts of all the charter documents I struggled through last week and so far the feedback has been pretty good.

So that's me as a lawyer.

Tonight at home I found myself walking around the upstairs in a long sleeved t-shirt paired with fresh vomit, old work out shorts, a messy bun, and thick framed glasses. I was holding a Landon who had just recently woken himself up by throwing up thick, white, sticky puke all over his hair, ears, face, pj's, bed, wall, and floor. He was clinging on to me for dear life, trying very hard to calm down after his impromptu second bath. And as I walked the hallway singing his favorite songs, slowly, finally feeling him relax, I thought that the lawyer-me probably wouldn't recognize the mommy-me right now. My colleagues certainly wouldn't. Isn't it funny how you can have versions of yourself that seem so different on the outside but are both still 100% you on the inside?

And as a side note, I wouldn't say I enjoyed roaming the halls with a curdled-milk pukey smelling baby, but there's something so absolutely wonderful and almost gratifying about the way your child melts into you when he doesn't feel good. That complete trust and surrender to mommy (and daddy) to make things better is probably the greatest and most terrifying part of being a parent.