I vowed to never sit at home on a weekend night. The Barn and The Peg were so boring, and I was not about to let that happen to me. It was pathetic: by the time they were in their forties, they would wave good-bye as we headed for basketball games at the gym or dances at the Coliseum. The Peg would read or sew, and The Barn would work in his office on one of his many ongoing projects – something for the church, usually. But, they sat at home, for crying out loud.
It never occurred to me that my friends’ parents were sitting at home, too. Offspring tend to be more hyper-sensitive to the weird habits their own begetters, while those of their friends get off fairly easy under the microscope. The father of one high school friend bowled on Friday nights, which is notable only because he wasn’t at home.
I was able to sustain my stand against boring lifestyles through college and into our early years of marriage. When The Dot made her appearance, I slowed down a little, still trying to keep my social calendar full. There was one fly in that ointment; I absolutely hated calling around for babysitters. By the time T-man was born, I was down to important community events and the pre-paid parties at the golf course where we were members. Other than that, forget it.
My bosom buddy Ann and I cooked up an excellent New Year’s Eve celebration that we adopted for a few years. We would gather together as families at alternating homes. The kids would play together, and we would entertain ourselves as they looked out for each other. No sitters to call in this plan, and the parents were just a scream away. Sometimes you just gotta be smarter than the status quo.
We spent several years at home alone with our own two, once they hit the double-digits. We would declare New Year’s Eve “Junk Food Night”, and lay in a disgusting supply of wasted calories. It sounded like a good idea, but we always over-bought and lost interest in the junk within a half-hour. Those are fond New Year’s Eve memories with just the four of us, watching videos and eating crap.
Somewhere in my forties, my idea of celebrating holidays by having fun on the town went kind of Barn-Peg wacko. Boring was redefined as “having a relaxing evening”. Scurrying was only done in daylight, and relaxing was for after sundown.
New Year’s Eve was my last holdout. I may have sat at home having a relaxing time on most nights of the year, but I usually got my groove back for New Year’s Eve. Eventually, I discovered I was forcing myself to have fun, when I could have been at home relaxing. I made the official switch from the New Year’s Eve reveler crowd to the New Year’s Day brunch crowd. We would invite a few friends in for a holiday hot dish, and we’d relax and gab for several hours.
This year I wanted New Year’s Eve to be special again, so Hubba and I bit the bullet and decided we’d compromise and entertain at home. We celebrated New Year’s Eve with a small group of family and friends by roasting a lovely pork loin stuffed with prunes, apricots, Swedish rye bread and red onion. One person brought a beautiful spinach salad, and another brought my favorite bread, which she bakes herself. I took the opportunity to test drive a new cake recipe and we kept at it until well past twelve o’clock. I don’t think everyone got out of here until nearly five o’clock!
We were able to do that because we celebrated at mid-day. The dishes were all done and the leaves were out of the table by six o’clock. P.M., that is. As I write this, I plan to be horizontal and unconscious at midnight, when the ball will fall and 2006 makes her debut. I am totally prepared to wake up in the morning and take down the old calendars, putting up the new ones that were special gifts to me from the Fund for Widows and Children of fill-in-the-blank. I am so okay with that. I am beyond being ready to pass the baton.
Happy 2006 to everyone! I hope you get to celebrate in your own special way, whether you ring in the New Year with a clang, or just tinkle it in with a gulp and a snore.
I need to go to bed now. If I don’t, I may accidentally be awake at midnight...
Copyright © Kari E.O. Burns December 2005
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