Sometimes
I feel insecure around my childless friends because I’m poorly groomed and almost
never night drive (bedtime is 7pm, yo). I worry that I’ve lost my edge and that I am
no longer cool. Who are we kidding? I wasn’t cool before. But I could fake it by showing up at a bar
and pretending not to have a sensory overload by nodding my head and nursing an
adult beverage. Now I am constantly
RSVPing no to spur of the moment get-togethers and all my clothes are from
Target and are made of jersey. And the
one who nurses beverages…also regularly poops her pants…and it’s not me (NOR
HAS IT EVER BEEN!).
But then
I got to thinking about all the things I do that actually make me the pinnacle of
cool. I’m pretty sure the young folk don’t refer to themselves as cool. They probably went back to groovy or
something…but I can dig it.
Things I
do that are cool:
1.
Eat at trendy restaurants. Portland is one of those super cool places
where the best restaurants don’t take reservations so you have to wait two
hours on a Sunday to get in. NOT
ME! Because I go on Thursdays at 8
am! No line! Same food.
I’m up anyway.
2.
Get
drunk on weeknights. At home. In my basement. On one large glass of white wine.
3.
Wear
leggings as pants. That’s what the young
people do, right?
4.
Rock
the #ijustwokeuplikethis look. I rock it
best at 6:30 am. And then just keep
rocking it all day…and all niiiiiiight.
5.
Have
sick dance moves. Or at least that’s what
Booberry thinks. She especially likes
the pony, aka, when I pretend I am one and she’s “thrown” “WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” It’s like the greatest thing that ever
happened to her.
6.
Do
drugs. Just kidding. Hugs not drugs.
7.
Trash
my house! With thrown food and
beverages. And toys. And books. And socks.
8.
Over-exercise. Triceps extension: lifting Booberry onto the
slide. Squat: pick her up. REPEAT ONE
MILLION TIMES. Cardio: wet swiffering my
kitchen once every other day to help break up some of the crusted-on oatmeal.
9.
Go
to parties: I go to so many parties, you
guys. I went to two last weekend! TWO! ON THE SAME DAY! They were one year old bday parties. Oh…does that not count? Fine.
I can go to your adults-only party.
But I need to know about it a month or two in advance so I can lock down
the in-laws to babysit. If the in laws
aren’t free, fine, I’ll just get a sitter.
But I’m only staying at your party until 10 pm because it’s not worth
$15 dollars an hour for me to get drunk in your basement when it only costs me
$15 over the course of three days to get drunk in mine off that one bottle of
wine. And I’m tired and have to get up
at 6:30 no matter what day of the week it is.
10. Arrive places fashionably late
because of oversleeping. Booberry’s
oversleeping , that is.
I mean,
do I really care about being cool anymore? NO.
But do I sometimes wake up on a Saturday and wish that slight headache
and queasy feeling was due to hangover and not just being awoken from deep
sleep by “DADA?!” echoing through the baby monitor? I mean…no?
Did I even care before about packing my social calendar? Not really. So what’s the deal? Our lives are different but we are still the
same people. Aren’t we? A year in (two, if you count the DD preggo
months), sometimes it’s still surprising when the Doctor and I turn to each
other and exclaim, “WHAT?!
A baby lives here?!” Then she staggers drunkenly over to us,
plants a wet kiss on each of our faces, and shakes her booty to the music. And we party on.
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