Prince Said It Best
I wonder if Prince really was dreaming when he wrote the lyrics to his well known song. Regardless, I’ll forgive him because it’s not the only thing that goes astray!
The other night I partied like it was 1999. The only problem about that is 1999 was fourteen years ago and though I’d like to believe I can still party like a rockstar, the reality is that my recovery rate is not quite as fast as it once used to be.
In my younger years, going out didn’t require too much advanced planning. There wasn’t much prep. It was simple:
1. You went out. 2. You partied your ass off. 3. You repeated steps 1 & 2 the following night. And the night after that. And the night after that. And the night after that.
Consequences were limited, or at the very least they didn’t include children waking you up at the crack of dawn ready to start their but even worse, my next day.
In today’s world, unless I’m trying to be a glutton for punishment, I’m required to get all my ducks in a row before a big night out. By ducks in a row I don’t just mean placing the large glass of water and the three Advil next to my side of the bed prior to heading out for the evening. That’s a given. I also mean finding a person, place or thing to unload my kids onto so that they are subtracted from the inevitable early morning equation!
So Sue Me If I Go Too… SLOW
Chronologically speaking, our age shouldn’t matter. We hear all the time that sixty is the new fifty and fifty is the new forty and if you’re forty-one, you might as well be twenty-one!
I can attest that when I really was twenty-one I behaved like it and loved every second. Now at forty-one, I can also attest it’s fun as hell to be able to behave like a twenty-one year old. I love every second of what I can remember after I’ve pieced the details back together until of course, the next morning! Talk about a rude awakening! Evidently, my numeric age can’t keep up with my mental age and therefore, the morning after for a lack of a better word, is a major buzzkill! Slow motion is an understatement. At best, my pace is equivalent to that of a snail.
Parties Weren’t Meant To Last
According to Prince, parties weren’t meant to last. Too bad his song didn’t make it to the deejay’s playlist Saturday night. I could have used the reminder while Johnnie Walker and I were throwing it down at the bar. The upshot, if any, of a big drinking night when you’re forty-one is being responsible enough to know that you’re probably going to be irresponsible! That said, pre-arranging car service is a must-do on my preparation list.
Drinking is one thing. Driving is another. The two should never mix. Obviously.
Listen To What I’m Tryin’ To Say
Organizing a sleep out for the kids on an adult party night is totally worth having to call in a favor to your Mother-in-law in order to make it happen. Knowing you’re coming home to an empty, quiet, clean house makes exiting even the best of parties worthwhile. Knowing the empty, quiet, clean house is only temporary makes it reason enough not to waste a minute of this all too infrequent luxury.
Figuring out how not to be the one to pick up the kids the next morning takes a lot of negotiating. A lot. I have to make more promises than a politician running for office but that as well, is totally worth it if it means I’ve scored myself an extra hour of uninterrupted sleep. And it’s double bonus when I can get this to happen:
“Umm, Hon? I live for you for letting me stay in bed. I mean, I don’t even think I could get up now if I wanted to, but since you’re gonna be out anywayyyy… would you mind terribly stopping for bagels? I’m starvvvved and I think I need some carbs to help absorb the alcohol that’s burning a hole in my stomach. Oh, and before you leave, can you get me some more water? I’m sooo parched. No, not THAT water… can you get me a bottle of Vitamin Water? It’s in the pantry. Check there. Thanks for taking one for the team. You really are the best! I owe you big time. You know I”ll make it up to you, right? Oh, and Babe? I’m begging you to not slam the door when you go. My head is killing me. Love you!”
Can’t Run From Revelation
The bartering (and brownnosing) worked but just as I was getting to the good part of my REM sleep cycle the front door swung open and in came the lunatics barking demands left and right as if they were making up for the hours they were not here to torture me.
My Older Kid:
“MAHMMMMMMMMM…. Where are you? What’s for lunch? We’re hungry! Can we go swimming? Where ARE you? What are we doing today? I called you three times from Grandma’s house but you didn’t pick up. Why didn’t you pick up? I know you’re going to say no, but can I have a playdate? Pleazzzz? Wait… don’t I have a basketball game? Where’s my uniform? Mom, what time is my game? We can’t be late. MAHMMMMMMMM!!!!!!???!!!!
In case there was any question if the party was over or not, my kids in-like-a-lion arrival certainly confirmed that it was. Fully aware that I was officially screwed, I couldn’t help but to revert back to Prince’s lyrics:
“Party over, oops out of time.”
My little guy stormed into my room and without permission moved the pillow away that I was using to block the sunlight from my eyes. He greeted me with a question that he clearly already knew the answer to.
“Mommy, you’re STILLLL in bed?!?!?”
I took that as a cue to get my hungover, unpolished ass into the shower and pull it together. I wanted desperately to roll over and go back to sleep in hopes of picking up my dream right where I had left off but I knew there was zero chance of that happening. Half the day had already gone by. It might have been 1999 last night, but today, all signs were pointing toward the future. It was time to get back to my 2013 reality ASAP!
AND JUST TO LET YOU KNOW… Despite the fact that it has taken me waayyy longer than usual to bounce back from my latest spin around town doesn’t mean I’m not excited to do it all over again when another adventure pops up. I know I’ll have to use my power of persuasion in order to ensure that I get the maximum amount of rest and relaxation but I’m fine with that. The twenty-one year old part of my brain is there to remind me that you only live once, so you better make it count. On the other side, the forty-one year old part of my brain is just happy to know there’s a little cushion of time before the next late night event and is more relieved than ever that this weekend is planned to be low key and relatively mellow!