Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

Please don't clean up.

Please don't dress up.

The only "up" I expect is the acting up that our children will be doing.

The only "up" I won't allow is us getting fed up with the chaos that is sure to ensue and encircle us.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

Please don't stress the mess.

Please don't apologize for planning less.

The only stress I want to see is when that shiitake leaves your being with each laugh you let out.

The only plan I will allow is the one that states that when we are together, we must chill the fudge out.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

Please don't be embarrassed by your child's behavior

Please don't judge me for that of mine.

The only thing you are allowed to be embarrassed about is your lack of give a fudge.

Please don't judge me when I spend our time together convincing you not to give a fudge.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

Please feel free to whine.

Please feel free to wine.

If you need to whine, I'm all ears.

If you need to wine, I'll bring a bottle.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

And, I'm coming over to

support,

help,

empathize,

and

entertain.

I'm not coming over to

speculate,

assess,

criticize,

or

mock.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

Please don't freeze up.

Please don't clam up.

Please just BE.

Please allow me to do the same.

Hey Friend,

I'm coming over.

So, get ready to answer your freakin' door, and you better not be wearing anything other than

leggings,

a messy pony,

yesterday's make-up,

compassion,

and grace.

And, you'll know it's me because, well, I'll be rocking the same.