That’s what my twenty-something self would say to me.
Truth is, as you get older and things change, so does your definition of fun. Or, at least that’s my experience.
Prime example is New Year’s Eve. In my twenties I stayed up until midnight or later, drank in excess, and either danced the night away or socialized until I had a sore throat.
Now that I’m in my thirties, the mere IDEA of doing that exhausts me! I am lucky to make it up to midnight on New Year’s Eve, let alone until bar close. I can have one alcoholic beverage but any more is sadistic – I have three kids who wake up early every morning and my alcohol tolerance is non-existent. Finally, the idea of spending New Year’s Eve anywhere but at home… well, that’s just not going to happen!
My definition of fun this year for New Year’s Eve: I drank one glass of champagne with my hubby, brother-in-law, wife and 2-month-old baby. (Note: My nephew did not part-take in anything but Mother’s Milk.) My three kids sat with us and drank sparkling apple juice; they felt grown up because they got to stay up until “midnight.” (Note: It was midnight Eastern Time but only 9 PM in our timezone, Pacific Time.) Kids went to bed shortly thereafter and Brother-in-law, wife and baby went home before 10 PM. Hubby and I were in bed less than an hour later.
And that is a fun New Year’s Eve after you’re in your thirties, married with children.
Or, at least it was mine.