A couple of days ago, I was lounging around in my pajamas like any normal afternoon when work hours are over, and a craving for pie hit me hard. I casually mumbled to the hubs, “A slice of Granny Belle’s chocolate pie sure would be good.”

From the other room, my daughter says, “Pie? Did you say pie? I would love some pie!”

Shouts of “Pie!” rang through our house like a fire alarm going off.

It was a regular Tuesday night and dinner was over and the kitchen was in the process of being cleaned. Baking a pie was a ridiculous thought. Right? I felt obligated just to check and see if we had all the ingredients on hand. As I scoured the pantry, I discovered we had everything we needed except a can of evaporated milk. Granny’s recipe is perfection so instead of substituting like I do on every other recipe, I notified the troops pie wouldn’t be happening.

My daughter smiles and shrugs nonchalantly and volunteers to run to the store and grab a can.

Mamas know this is a critical moment. The kitchen was almost clean, closed, done for the night. My pajamas were pulling me with magnetic force to hurry to the furry blanket and cocoon in my bed. It had been a day. But the lure of pie, the eager look in my kiddos’ eyes, and the chance to say yes to something fun pushed me to give in.

I posted a gratitude update on Facebook for children old enough to drive to the store, making pie on a Tuesday night, and of course, pajamas. The comments that followed had me belly laughing. My people joined in the fun stream of words united in our love of pajamas. It was so much fun. I love my tribe of women who share the real parts of this life of working and mothering and dreaming and doing big things for God and all the difficult seasons in between.

My gal pal, Jennifer Watson, and I have been talking about these seasons on weekend conference calls and finding purpose right where we are, and other really important stuff like why my hair is so jacked up. (She keeps daring me to post a pic, and I am just crazy enough to do it…maybe.) I am wearing my pajamas for every Facetime call because that’s how I roll and also, she doesn’t need me to fancy up the package to see the value in the person.

I wonder if part of the reason I count the hours until I can put back on my pajamas each day is how tiring it can be to look the part. Desperate to peel back the presentable, “got-it-together” look we feel pressured to show, pajamas welcome me just as I am without the choking squeeze of skinny jeans.

The danger comes when I make hiding my normal.

I want to be intentional and somehow mesh the real me inside the pajamas with the one showing up for the world each day. I want to spend more energy on relationships and connections with family and friends than on flat irons and wedges. Now, don’t get it twisted and somehow read that I don’t love all the fancy, fashion girl stuff. (One of my favorite former students calls me a #fancyfashion girl.) I love it as much as the next chick, but the older I get the more tired it makes me. As much as I tried, cute, new shoes didn’t provide lasting joy.

So, when Jennifer and I were talking and laughing and dreaming, she said these deep words.

“I used to be fun on Fridays.”

Yeah. (Sigh) Me, too.

We wondered aloud if anybody else feels the same. I am guessing you do. I bet there are pajama lovers all across the world who love to relax and breathe deep, but miss the fun parts of their lives like Friday nights, too.

So, ladies, we decided to join forces and bring some fun back to Fridays. (If nothing else occurs, you will get the hilarious pleasure of laughing at us, and if you don’t think we’re funny, no worries. We will still be acting up and laughing at ourselves.)

(In full disclosure…I am wearing my pajamas in the middle of the day while writing this post.)

 Renee