I went out last night. Against my better judgment, my deep longing for sleep, and my need to work until at least midnight, I met up with lots of young childless co-workers at a fellow first year's (absolutely incredible) house for drinks and food before heading downtown around midnight. I wasn't going to go. I was sitting on the couch with JP in sweats watching Planet Earth HD and contemplating how I was going to get all my work done, while still getting enough sleep, and told him that I just couldn't go to the party. But then I tried to remember the last time I went out and decided it must have been election da,y and I think it's good to see colleagues outside of work every now and then and usually I'm not even invited because they know I'm not going to come, so I threw on tight jeans, a black t-shirt, and very bright red heels with bows (a wide red bracelet completed the impromptu ensemble) and headed out the door. I was just going to have a drink at his house and then come home. But then they were all getting in cars and I texted a friend of mine and found at she was at the same bar we were heading to, I called JP, who reminded me in no uncertain terms that no matter when I came home it was still going to be my turn to get up with Landon, and I jumped into a waiting BMW.
And it was fun. But then I got home at 2 (not too late!) and climbed in bed to hear Landon wailing at precisely 2:08. He was up for the next hour and a half- inconsolable, wide-awake, and absolutely certain it was morning and time for cheerios and milk. I finally fell asleep at 3:30 and deeply regretted my flirtation with a social life when he woke up again at 6:50. He was in a great mood and JP took over at 8 so I could go back to bed, but I never really fell back asleep and now I'm sitting in front of my work computer trying to focus on doc review and wondering when my brain is going to start functioning properly.
I didn't have more than the first drink at 10 so I'm not battling a hangover, but I'm definitely too old for these kind of shenanigans. Or more correctly, given that I'm younger than most of the people I went out with, I'm just too much of a mom with too much of a toddler.