Houston we have a problem.

I had one of those mornings last week. You know the one where you're like... did this really happen to me just now?

Why yes, Becky, it did.

Let's do a little recap, shall we.

Last week, one of my best friends texts me the night before to tell me that she was leaving the next day to move to Switzerland {yes, I just said Switzerland...Don't ask}. Mind you, I know that this is happening {just didn't realize it was this soon}, and I am at work when I receive this text.

So what does a desperate friend do when they absolutely need to see their friend before she leaves this country {I still have not come to terms with this}... why, she makes a breakfast date. What else.

Okay. Lets fast forward to 730 am. I get off work. I had texted the husband the night before "things to bring," and I put my trust in him that he would come through.

"wallet with my license and credit card {because I don't carry this on me at work}

Elliana's breakfast {because I don't allow her to eat junk..99% of the time}

Elliana's coat, hat, and gloves {because husband would just have a blanket on her otherwise}

Makeup {need I explain? 12 hours is a long time}

Dress her cute! {remember this one}"

Okay. It's 745 now. I get a phone call from the husband... and it goes something like this:

"F#$% da#$ sh@#... this outfit is going crazy."

and then he hangs up.

Um. Reminder. Husband leaves the house at 730 to come meet me, otherwise he would be late for work. Reminder number two. It is now 745. Reminder number 3... he is still dealing with "outfit."

And did he really just say.... the outfit is going crazy?

My poor child. That was my first thought. My second thought was... seriously Andrew, seriously?

So eventually he arrives. All the stuff is there. The baby looks happy. She's dressed warm. Her pants look cute, and so do her shoes. Although they wouldn't be the two I would put together, but he gets an A for effort {why do people even say that}. 

I quickly spruce myself up {to the best of my ability for being awake for 24 hours}, and head on my way.

Now. When I arrive to the restaurant and go in the backseat to take Elliana out... I notice something peculiar.

Her shirt. Identical to her pants. 

Now listen closely. I don't want you to get confused. I may have to draw a picture, but just hold up and take note.

Elliana has these two outfits by nicole miller {love her baby girl clothes}. One outfit is a blue top with white pants with gold polka-dots all over them. Another one {again, made by the same person} with a white shirt with gold polka-dots all over them and blue pants to match.

Perfect combo. Perfect outfits. Absolutely my favorite.

Well what does my husband do? He puts the white pants with the white shirts WITH GOLD POLKA-DOTS ALL OVER together on her.  And a gold bow.

So here I am walking in with a child that looks like she got hit with the gold paintball gun 100 too many times. A walking gold-polka dot baby doll. A huge eye sore is what it was.

And to think.... that these people in this public restaurant actually thought that I dressed her. I wanted to put a big sign around her neck. So people would know. {It wasn't ME}

And let's not even talk about what happened toward the end of breakfast. You don't even want to know. I won't even go there.

Fine. I'll go there. My child went crazy. I mean, crazy crazy. Flinging head back, arching her back, screaming. That kind of crazy. I was utterly mortified. Never have I seen her act like this. Ever. And here she is doing this in public?

For the love of khfksjfjienk@#@%@$.

I grabbed her jacket so quickly... sorry friend... I have to run. And ran out the door. My friend following behind me.

I get that it was her nap time, but seriously, was it necessary to act that way? I am scarred. Very much so.

Let's just say... my head was spinning by 10am and I vow to never do that again....

That is until my next best friend decides to move to Africa.