Over the hill and partied out...is it that time already?

So it's the morning after. Breakfast has been made, mimosa's have been downed, and the floor is littered with the confetti from about 100 little poppers. And I am not hung over, which means one of two things. I didn't drink enough last night, or I am getting too old for this shit.

When the kids were little, one of the little New Years Eve joys was changing all the clocks to read an hour ahead. Then putting on the New York countdown, and conning the kids into believing it was midnight, thus allowing the adults to have a quiet hour to themselves and ring in the New Year. Worked for years until they got their first cell phones and realized that in fact the parents were lying. You can't change the time on those infernal contraptions. But I have to admit, that indeed, for probably the first time EVER, the Guitarman wanted to go to bed before midnight.

We were never into the whole, drop-some-serious-cash-on-some-party-where-you-ring-in-the-new-year-with-complete-strangers. We preferred to have a few friends over with their kids, make a nice dinner, and drink too much. Usually worked out great, finally getting the kids to stop running around like head-less chickens from a cupcake-root beer buzz at about 1am. Then staying up chatting 'til the wee hours, waking up to mounds of eggs, waffles, hash browns, and mimosas. But these days I am feeling the burn of middle age. Last night I just wanted to go to bed.

Yea getting old has its drawbacks. As I sit here typing this, I am watching my 18 year younger sister do tae-bo while cursing Billy Blanks and his military style pounding. I could never muster up that much energy on the morning after New Years Eve, not even when I was 28. But one thing is for sure. I AM becoming my parents. I used to wonder why they never stayed up until midnight, but now I know. They are just partied out.