Friday Nights: Then and Now

I was never what you would call a serious party girl, but I did my share of going out on Friday nights in college and the year immediately following college. I mostly liked to go dancing.

Now I mostly like to stay home and go to bed at 9 p.m. But last night I went out. Like, out of the house! To a place with other people! It was not, however, exactly like going out on Friday nights used to be.

Allow me to present a comparison of Friday Nights Then and Friday Nights Now.

Then . . . 9 p.m. Time to have some pre-bar shots with friends and then get dressed in high-heeled boots and fancy club clothes.

Now . . . 6 p.m. Time to put the baby to bed and get dressed in clothing that does not have stains, holes, or other noticeable defects.

Then . . . Dinner? Who needs dinner? Have another shot!

Now . . . Dinner? Who has time for dinner? I'll get some potato chips and cheese at the dairy store when I stop to get cream.

Then . . . At the bar. Dance and drink, repeat ad infinitum.

Now . . . At the thrift store. Riffle through the racks of clothing and try things on, repeat ad infinitum. Then find some summer clothing for my oldest son and look for things for my husband.

Then . . . Move on to a new bar.

Now . . . Move on to a new store. The grocery store this time. As a special treat, I purchase some White Lightning ice cream, which I will not have time to eat tonight, because it is already 8:30 p.m. and I need to get home and go to bed.

Then . . . Arrive home after the bars close at 2 a.m. Drink copious amounts of water in an attempt to avoid a hangover, change into pajamas, and fall into bed, hair reeking of cigarette smoke. (Remember when smoking was legal in bars? Man, those were the gross, smelly days.)

Now . . . Arrive home at 9 p.m. Unload car, put away groceries, fold laundry, nurse the baby, change into pajamas, and fall into bed. No cigarette reek.

Then . . . Wake up at 4 a.m., vaguely nauseated and needing to pee. Drink more water. Go back to bed.

Now . . . Wake up at 4 a.m. to nurse the baby, can't fall back asleep.

Then . . . Get up for the day at 10 a.m. Go to Wendy's for french fry hangover cure.

Now . . . Get up for the day at 6:20 a.m. Go downstairs and make coffee while getting breakfast for the three-year-old and answering all his questions, changing the baby, nursing the baby, getting the fire started, sweeping the disgusting kitchen floor, and putting away some dishes. Finally drink coffee an hour after getting up.

So Friday nights aren't really as exciting as they used to be. On the up side, though, there is significantly less chance of throwing up on Saturday mornings. And I really hated that cigarette stank in my hair.