Wild and Crazy Friday Nights

My twenties were filled with debauchery. Well, not really. After a long week of grad school and student teaching, however, I looked forward to letting loose over the weekend. Out on the town with the girls, I frolicked until the wee hours of the morning -- knowing that I could sleep it off the next day. Friday nights were the pinnacle of the festivities. We had the whole weekend ahead of us, and we were going to have fun. Staying home was out of the question.

Fast forward eight years or so, and I am curled up on the sofa in my sweats. My 17-month-old toddler is blissfully asleep in his crib and I am eager for take-out pizza and an On-Demand movie with the hubby. My Fridays of yesteryear are gone -- the closest I get these days are a glass of wine from the state store inside the Superfresh. If I pass out on the sofa, it's from exhaustion and not from too much partying. Tomorrow morning, I'll be up bright and early to greet my gorgeous little boy as he begins his day. And that's just how I like it.

I often remark how happy I am that I didn't have my first child until I turned 30. My twenties were marked by occasional moments of irresponsibility, and those nights were among the most fun. Though I do look back on that time in my life with fond memories, I don't miss it. I'll eat pizza in my sweats, put my baby boy to sleep, and curl up with a good movie. I'm okay with a Friday night at home, because I'm now responsible for the most precious thing of all.