I could live in my PJs...seriously

A few months ago, I realized that the minute after I walk through the door and kiss all three of my boys after work, I'm in my bedroom shedding my clothes. I'm serious--in minutes, I'm in my PJs with clothes strewn everywhere, my face washed, hair up in a Pebbles-esque position, and Birks on my feet. (Yes, I am quite the hippie at heart...not the pachouli oil and hemp sort of hippie, though, just the "if I wanna go commando and wear my Birkenstocks with socks" sort of hippie, I'm gonna do it and be oh-so-Drew Barrymore happy about it, k?)

Funny thing is that it never dawns on me I'll ever have to go anywhere or look presentable after I walk through the door with a work "hangover"...I just want to rid myself of all things uncomfortable and get into my jammies. (Of course, when I do have to leave my "safe house," which is more often then I'd like, I always seem to run into clients--gotta love it...lookin' real pretty.)

The kids notice it, too, and often comment: "Mommy, you're soooo sillllyyyy, you're in your pajamas and it's not even dark yet!" To which I respond, "Yep, you're right. They make mommy happy." Nuff said. And you know that good ol' golden rule: "If momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." So true, so true.

I often wonder if this is how Cybil's many personalities first revealed themselves...by day, I'm "Working Melissa In Professional Clothes, Hair and Make-Up Ready and Willing to Act on Important Business Transactions"...by night (or perhaps more accurately, one minute after work), I'm "Sloppy Melissa Who's Hoping Her Face Doesn't Break Out From the Day's Worth of Make-Up and Just Wants to Eat PB&Js and Uncooked Tortellini With Her Kids (don't ask...I just love it)."

If you were to talk to Sloppy Melissa, say at 7pm-ish, I'm willing to go out on a limb and say that I would not carry the same credibility that I might, say at noon, when I've combed my hair and don't have a bleach-stained t-shirt on.

Sometimes I see those working parents with their cute "after work" outfits on and I have to laugh...not because they don't look cute, they do, dammit, and it's really irritating!! ;), but because I seriously can't imagine wanting to put on anything even remotely like it. In fact, I take serious offense to having to wear "real" clothes after work.

My favorite recollection is when I flew out of town for a client conference...my coworker and I got in around 8pm and immediately upon entering my hotel room, I started dropping clothes and shoes everywhere, not thinking that I hadn't talked to the client yet and she was in the hotel...not thinking that she might want to have a drink, etc. I just didn't care! So, naturally, the phone rings about 8:15pm and there I am, fully PJed, hair on top of my head, no make-up and the client wants to "grab a quick drink and catch up" in 15 minutes downstairs.

Not surprisingly, this is when Working Melissa and Sloppy Melissa met up for a MTV Grudge Match-like "event." Sloppy Melissa was downright pissed that she had no choice but to get redressed and go downstairs and was trying to find every excuse why not to go, but Working Melissa kept thinking what an idiot she was for turning into Sloppy Melissa so quickly. It was hilarious...hence: Cybil revealed!

So, I'm now thinking that with workplaces getting so flexible that they're allowing job-sharing, dogs in offices, tele-commuting, etc., that I'm going to vy for a PJ-friendly workplace. In fact, I think I'm going to stand up for all of the PJ-oppressed workplaces out there. I guarantee I'd be more productive in my jams--wouldn't you?? Granted, that whole credibility factor may slightly diminish...but, it'd be really fun to see Sloppy Melissa kick the stuff out of Working Melissa with a Birkenstock just once!

5 days and counting...

I love vacation. I'm not sure, though, if I like the actual vacation or the anticipation more.

Turns out my kids are the same way. I came home the other day and they were mid-packing their backpacks (this was 3 weeks ago) with everything one would need for a vacation--Matchbox cars, a pink My Little Pony (every boy's favorite toy, right?), coloring books, a random Tinker Toy or two, a clump of stickers and capes from their superhero PJs (they wouldn't exactly be "super" if they forgot their capes on vacation, would they). It cracked me up, but I completely understood the desire to just GO!

We leave this Friday for our annual St. Simons Island vacay and while I know I need to be focused on this week's worth of work and millions of other tasks, I'm like a little kid inside screaming "ARE WE THERE YET???" and waiting to play the license plate game.

This is probably because I know that for 7 days straight, I get to lay on the porch of our cottage and pretend to read my books while I actually just read the same 3 pages over and over and sleep in the warmth of outside. I get to eat junk and sit on my bum. I get to go to the beach every day without any time limits or "gotta get home to go grocery shopping" tasks on my mind.

And my hair will get frizzy from the humidity...and I don't care. And I'll live in my bathing suit and crappy shorts...and I don't care. And I won't even take out my makeup, which means my Opie-like sun freckles will pop out everywhere...and I don't care...in fact, I like it.

And for those people who wonder if I can really "turn it off"...my comment: JUST WATCH ME. It's the one time of the year that I love shoving my Blackberry into a drawer and get ticked off if it rings. Don't people know I'm a sleepy slob of a human that doesn't want to be friendly or "on"?

It's great, too, because I know that I won't run into a soul that I know, so if I want to be grumpy and sloppy I can be! (FYI, all, if you by some odd chance happen to be in St. Simons next week and you see me, you may want to ignore me... ;)

Here's to vacation!!