Alert: Somebody’s mother. Definitely not fun.

glassesHi there. I feel like a total jerk for not blogging in so long. I’m not sure what’s kept me from this site. I just haven’t felt inspired I guess. And I’m lazy. Very very lazy.

So this weekend was different. I attended a Bachelorette party on Saturday that made me feel 87 years old. I mean seriously, why do people go out? It’s so horrible I don’t get it. And it’s not because I’m somehow above it now that I have kids. Hell, I wish I still went out-I wish I did anything cool-but the truth is, I’m tired and grouchy and the last thing I want to do is put on ill-fitting clothes and uncomfortable shoes and stand in a crowded bar holding a 9$ vodka soda that is already giving me a headache while a group of size 2 blonds next to me scream loudly into their iphones “wait WHAT? Where are you guys?! I’m by the bar. BY THE BAR”.

What do I want to do? I’d like to eat a nice meal and drink 2-maybe 3-glasses of Sauvignon Blanc while wearing my target yoga pants and one of my husbands large tee-shirts, watch “Kim and Khloe Take Miami” (or any other combination of K’s taking various cities) feel a little buzzed and head to bed around 10:15. Yep. I’m old.

So the Bachelorette party was in fact quite fun. The girs I was with were awesome and we all enjoyed laughing at the drunken messes around us. I noticed that a lot of people at the bar shoved me unapologetically. I felt like I had a giant arrow dangling above my head with a sign reading “Somebody’s mother. Definitely not any fun”. To make matters worse, I kept remembering that in just a few hours I would have to get up with two screaming babies who did not care if I was hungover and tired. I pushed through however and downed several vodka drinks in hopes that I would miraculously become more fun. Around midnight (god help me) we headed to a club around the corner. While waiting in line politely, a handful of skinny blondes pushes past us and the bouncer and walked towards the door. This pathetic, nerdy bouncer sheepishly said “no. wait. stop girls. no.” to which they laughed and kept walking. I felt exactly like Leslie Mann’s character in “Knocked Up” when she gets rejected by the bouncer for being too old. (

Not to be super annoying and if I read this in someone else’s blog I would definitely roll my eyes, but I looked at these girls-not women-and thought to myself “they have no idea what it is to be a real woman”. I know that’s super lame and maybe I’m just saying it to make myself feel better for not wearing adorable sequined shorts with sky-high heels and a skin tight tank top, but the truth is, I thought it. Here were these girls with pre-puberty looking bodies-bellies that had never grown a child-breasts that had never fed a baby-and all I thought to myself was that I was happy to be me. Me in my out-of-style mom dress, comfortable and practical “going out” shoes, cell phone in-hand in case of emergency, me.

I took a cab home around 2am and watched out the window as a generation-one that was no longer mine-flirted and danced and smoked-and I couldn’t have been happier to go home to my new world, one that was a good bit calmer and absolutely less cool-but one I’m in now. At least until the next Bachelorette party 😉

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