Saturday, August 27, 2011

Old Lady T

Music on the Mountaintop
(hubs is not drunk, the flash makes him blink, wah-wah-wah)
Sometimes I feel like I am officially old. Last night I sat in the p-o-u-r-i-n-g rain, amongst a writhing mass of unwashed kids at an outdoor festival. (Kids = college age in this scenario, see I already sound old). I was cold, I was wet, I was not happy when I had to get up to pee. But I did it, with minimal complaining and a smile on my face. And it was really fun. The husband loves musical festivals, so sometimes we go get our inner granola on and listen to some music and do a little noodle dancing. Last night a girl on the bus on the way back to the parking lot was HAMMERED. Head in some dude's lap, screaming at the bus driver to stop at McDonalds, reminding her peeps they needed more beer, whining somewhat incoherently that she was freezing (side note, maybe more than a knit skirt and wife beater next time when there is 80% chance of rain, hmmm?). And her friends were not much better off. Anthony and I laughed and talked to them and they were having a great time. While I listened to them talk about cramming into hotel rooms and possibly breaking into the pool late night, I was so glad I had a nice condo to go back to with a dryer and warm shower. I was glad I wouldn't feel like tee-total ass tomorrow so I could enjoy the second day of the festival. I was thinking that I was so glad I didn't have to worry about sharing a tiny hotel room with drunk smelly dudes and people hooking up. Then I realized it. Damn, I am an old lady. All of those things? I have done them all in my youth. But the fact that they don't seem even remotely attractive after sitting in the rain listening to blue grass jam tells me that I have moved on to wanting the finer things in life. Like the sense to pack for rain and skipping the throwing up in the bushes while I wait for the shuttle. 

Jane's 21st B-day, rowdy if I remember correctly

I have been that girl, many times over. Wrong clothes for the weather, too much too drink, having a great time. Who's to say I will never do that again? Not me. The difference now that I am ancient is that it is no longer a sustainable way of life. In college, we would party, sleep until noon, eat greasy food, watch movies, pre-game and get ready, then go back out. Again, again, again, and again. Every weekend. Now if I drink two nights in a row I will pay for it for 3 days afterward. Minimum. These days my wild nights (too much beer at dinner with friends/company Christmas party/too much wine at girls night) are paid for heavily with Advil and promises to never do it again if the baby will just be good so I can be hungover in peace. Young people party with careless abandon and sure, maybe have a hangover, but nothing a chicken biscuit and Bojangles tea won't cure. Now I have to have an entire medicine cabinet to get through it and a full staff (aka. husband) to cater to my ever need. Not to mention that having a toddler really kills the desire to get sha-nay-nayed because the next day the child doesn't care how overserved I am, or the degree of my party flu. She will continue to bang on her toy drum directly beside the couch where I am dying resting. She will still demand to be fed at regular intervals throughout the day, even when the thought of cutting up a hot dog makes me throw up in my mouth. She still wants to play outside despite my concern that sunlight will make my eyeballs explode and my brain implode therefore causing my entire head to burst into flames. Because of this, I try my best to avoid hangovers unless I am alone. Which means I try to avoid hangovers at all costs. I still drink. I still let loose. I still have fun. But I am no longer the girl on the bus. I am old and hangover phobic.

Jenn and I at St Pattie's in Savannah 2001. First beer, 8.30 am. 
I suppose we all have to grow up sometime. I will try and accept my new status as a senior member of society with class and dignity. I will try to not weep at the though of my college self, young and full of energy, ready to party wherever the wind or the frat bus takes her. I will remember that I am someone's mommy and tomorrow is going to smack me in the face if I get too crazy tonight. I will remember that you are only allowed to take four Advil at a time and try to avoid things that cause me to want to take the whole bottle. I will remember that sweet tea vodka is amazingly easy going down, and quite rough coming up. I will remember that nice ladies don't get drinking tickets and don't pee in public just because the port-a-potty seems to far away. However, I cannot promise that I won't slip up and get rowdy upon occasion. I may have one too many Blue Moon's deckin' it with friends. I may forget my status as a matron and let loose on the dance floor at some future bachelorette party. I could possibly stay up past midnight and eat apple pie late night after a little too much fun. I may do all those things, but don't worry. I will pay for them later. Now that I am old the recovery doesn't come easy and it doesn't come quick. Don't be alarmed in the future if you see the hubs making a run to Biscuitville with his hair sticking up and pj pants on. That just means mama had too much fun the night before and needs a little Vitamin G. But not to worry, she is old and won't be doing it again for awhile


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...