Ok, First things First.
If you haven't commented on the post for the giveaway NOW is the time to do it!! Check it out on the Blog.
And all you have to do is check out the website, and leave a comment on that post about which page you liked the best!!! There's more instructions for more entries if you click on the link!!!
Really, check it out. I promise it will completely change your Little-Scrapbooking-Lives.
Not that you have little lives, it was just an expression.
So. Anyways.
I learned something this weekend. Something valuable and important and life-changing and good and bad at the same time and well.... you get the point.
Here it is.
I'm not 21 anymore.
Boom.
I think I just blew your mind. (Go ahead and roll your eyes if you must....)
But here's the thing. I'm not. I can pretend. And I can complain about being 27 all I want to and preach about how terrified of 28 I am, but still I secretly felt like 6 years is not a whole lot of time between 21 and 27 and so I'm really not that much older than a 21 year old, I'm just like the wiser, more mature, happier, more fun version of my 21 year old self.
I was wrong.
I was oh, so wrong.
This weekend, My glorious mother watched all three kids. Overnight. We had Friday night to remember what our lives were like before kids, before responsibility, before years of sleepless nights, and early morning cartoons, before hectic bedtimes and brushing too many sets of teeth to keep count, before stories and songs and prayers and ba-ba's and drinks of water and drinks of juice and pancakes for breakfast and screams of "Mommy I have to go POTTYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!" and rushing to dance and hours at dance and tutus and ballet shoes and gas station snacks and nursing and bottles and dirty diapers and.. and.... and.....
You get the point.
We dropped off those little babies, ran back to the car, slammed the doors and high-tailed out of there like we had just robbed a bank in a Bonnie and Clyde movie.
It was mayhem.
And we didn't just go out. Oh. No.
We went out with our friends. To celebrate my sister-in-laws 21st birthday.
Can you hear clinking glasses and shouts of "Cheers!!" or is that just me?
We started the night at our fave, dive Tequila bar. Because you know Tequila is my love language. Ok. And we had dinner there. They serve these amazingly cheap like street-fair-style tacos that are $2 a piece and they have cold El Jimador. And NOBODY goes there early, so we have the place to ourselves for a while. And I just love it.
The thing is, if it were just Zach and I out on the town by ourselves, we would have started and then ended there. Ok. We're not spring chickens anymore, as Zach likes to remind me with that exact phrasing.
But, like I said, we were downtown for a birthday party.
After dinner, we met up with a friend for a drink at another bar, and then the rest of the party at a Martini Bar. Ok, first of all, everyone always tells me, Oh my gosh, I hate tequila, I can't believe you like tequila, I've had bad experiences, it doesn't work with me.
And by everyone, I literally mean everyone, even Zach.
But, that is EXACTLY how I feel about martinis. And honestly, it doesn't matter if they're vodka, or gin, I know it's going to end badly for me.
So anyways, after the Martini Bar, there was the Sushi Happy Hour. Which, I love sushi!! Love it. And Happy Hour Prices? Um, yes please! Plus, I haven't had it in maybe a year and a half, because we used to get it all of the time and then suddenly it made Zach like want to vomit just thinking about it.
But finally I convinced him to go back.
And it was fantastic.
But oh no. The night's not over yet.
After Sushi it was to a club. That's right, a club. Which we promptly left because there was a ten dollar cover and we were way out of place. Like. So. Out of place.
There was still another club mixed in there somewhere though.
And by the time I got home, I was exhausted. And the next day was bad. And I feel like I'm still recovering and all I could think of was, I am too old for this. I am too old for this. I am too old for this.
Dang it.
And I know it's not age. Because, there are lots of kids my age who still spend their weekends like this and are fine.
It's Life Style.
And, as hard as it was for me to change lifestyles, how I felt like I was dragged, kicking and screaming from my super fun 21 year old days into motherhood at 22, I am here now. On the other side of motherhood and I'm pretty much loving it.
For sure. Loving it.
So that was Friday night. Saturday was a whole different world for Zach and me. He got the kids and I cried when they came home I was so happy to see them and I felt like the grew three feet over night. And our whole day was spent just together. I made a huge pot of homemade chili and cornbread and we watched the Husker Game and then after the kids went to bed, Zach and I cuddled on the couch and caught up on our DVR and then the new SNL. (Which ok, we get it celebrities, you hate Republicans. It's a well known fact. But geesh. Let's have a little fair-and-balanced with the jokes, right???) (Oh, I should also say, it has never bothered me until last night, I am SO one of those people that loves to laugh at their own party, but I felt like Seth Meyers was a little..... malicious on purpose last night. Meanwhile, Alec Baldwins impression of Tony Bennet was. Hilarious.)
Ok, where was I?
Oh, and that was like the perfect evening for me. That was the only thing I could even imagine doing to be honest.
At about 6pm, whilst I'm in the middle of making chili, we get the texts. You know... The Texts. And I mean texts because both of our phones started going off. They're all, "Hey are you guys coming to October Fest tonight?" or... "I'll pick up some steaks and come over for the game?"
And we just look at each other and laugh.
First of all, if we wanted to go, IF we wanted to go, it's already 6pm and dinner is on the stove, exactly who is going to watch the three kids running around crazy?
Second of all, we went out last night, who is paying for tonight???
And third of all, we don't. We don't want to go out. And we certainly don't want anyone else to come over. I want to stay home and cuddle and eat chili and kiss my kidlets goodnight and relish in the comfort of home and never, ever leave my farm again.
And I kind of mean.. EVER.
I don't want to put make up on. I don't want to wear high heels. I don't even want to smell good.
I just want to be home.
I think the text I replied to was even like this, "Thanks for the invite, but we can't go out two nights in a row. Actually, I don't think we'll be going out for the rest of the month!"
And then I had to laugh at myself. When did I become this person???? When did I become the person that prefers to stay at home. A year ago, even, Zach and I still looked for a sitter at least one night a week.
Now? I'm completely content to go out once a month. Once. A. Month. And then I get home and kiss the door mat, raise my hands to the heavens and cry out to God in thanksgiving I made it back to the farm alive.
Last night I preferred doing dishes over eating out and drinking beer. I preferred sweats and slippers to high heels and party dresses. I preferred screaming, fighting, tired kids to laughing with friends. And I couldn't even figure out who I was.
Don't get me wrong. I need nights without kids. And I NEED nights with friends and night where I can forget I'm a parent and date my husband and laugh until I cry and party it up a bit. But not every week. And certainly not two nights in a row.
I hardly recognized myself.
But honestly. I think I like this version better.
Sorry, Miriah if this is one of those "My life is so perfect" blogs.... It's definitely not. And honestly, this morning, I thought I was going to put one or both of the girls for sale on ebay. For a dollar. (Also, I so know those blogs you are talking about. One night I spent the night perusing through those blogs, and then I stood up, walked into the living room and picked a fight with Zach just to find sanity.....)
I'm just happy to be 27 today. 27 with three kids, a husband that loves me and laundry to fold. Yes, even laundry.
And happy for the new chaos of our life. And that we choose to live through that chaos on our island of solitude, far from clubs and martini bars and far from the lifestyle that only occupies our memories.
Don't forget the contest!!!!!!
Who is Rachel?!?
Rachel Higginson is the author of The Five Stages of Falling in Love, Every Wrong Reason, The Star-Crossed Series, Love & Decay Novella Series and much more!
She was born and raised in Nebraska, and spent her college years traveling the world. She fell in love with Eastern Europe, Paris, Indian Food and the beautiful beaches of Sri Lanka, but came back home to marry her high school sweetheart. Now she spends her days writing stories and raising five amazing kids.
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