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Wednesday, December 31, 2008

So, New Year’s Eve

I remember staying home with my little brothers while our parents (or my mom and whoever she was married to that year) went out to fancy grown up parties. We would watch Dick Clark and wear party hats, I, of course, being the only girl, got the glittery Happy New Year tiara, we would toss homemade confetti at midnight and drink ginger ale from plastic champagne glasses.  It all seemed very exciting at the time.

Later, when I when I was a drinking girl, the party would start early in the day and continue way past midnight. Which generally left me the ringing in the New Year feeling quite nauseous, and usually with the uneasy feeling that, while I didn’t exactly remember that last club we’d been to, maybe that was for the best.

It’s been years since I’ve been to any kind of crazy party on New Year’s Eve. We either hang out with our kids or go to boring adult parties. After last year I swore we would not spend another January 31st in agony, so tonight we are staying home and have invited our closest friends to come to our house where we will ring out the old by watching rented videos and eating ice cream and possibly going to bed around 10:00. I can’t even make it through an entire episode of Saturday Night Live anymore, I’m not even going to pretend I will be awake at 12:00. I’m old. 40, remember.

Our children will stay up, or try to. They will wear hats and throw homemade confetti and drink sparkling cider from plastic martini glasses. One or two will even go out with friends, just to other homes where some mom waaaayyy nicer than me has agreed to host a Flight of the Concords marathon (it doesn’t hurt that there is no fun wrecking little sister on the premises either, some people have all the luck).

Everyone will sleep in tomorrow, except me. I hardly ever sleep in. I will wake up early and crack open my new 2009 planner.

I love the idea of new years and fresh starts. I’m optimistic like that.

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