Realizations

If you are under the age of 25, you are 21. If you are younger than 21 you are 12 and therefore you should be at home with your mommy and daddy. I am telling you, 21 year olds these days look so young! Born in 1992 and you can drink...LEGALLY? Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks.

They are not looking younger, I in fact, am getting OLDER.

Jesus Christmas! I remember when I was a 21 year old, wondering what kind of beer to order. Obviously it was between Coors Light and Bud Light, I mean I was 21...there weren't even any other beers on my radar. Lucky for me with my aging I have also introduced new beers into my life. Wachusett Blueberry and I are BFFs now, however it can be a love-hate relationship. Which brings me to my next realization.

Being hungover sucks ass.

When I first started drinking everything was great! I remember Tyler and his parties at his house in Hyannis, getting wasted off of 99 Bananas, making HILARIOUS life decisions and maybe even going for a dip in the ocean. I would stay up all night drinking my (because yes, I needed my own...duh) bottle of booze, sleep for maybe two hours? wake up, get some fresh air and a Dunkin Donuts egg, bacon and cheese on a bagel and call it a morning. I felt great! Wonderful! So full of life! 

Flash forward ten years and now after a "night" of partying it up (aka, two beers at a bar, okay I lied, two beers at home, I mean who has time to go out anymore?) I am so mother loving hungover the next morning I want to gouge my own eyes out with spoons to make the pain go away. What the hell did I ever do to you booze. We used to be the best of friends.

 And now this hangover I am talking about, it is NO joke. It is one of those "I hate my life" moments. One of the "What the FUCK was I thinking" moments. One of the "I swear to you God I will NEVER drink again if you make this go away" moments. And not only do I wish for a quick painless death for myself that next morning, but it keeps going. My hangovers are fueled by the mother effing energizer bunny. Morning, noon, night, the next morning, the next noon and you better believe me the next night. I am done. Comatose. And you want to know the hardest part? I am still mommy. And you best believe Cassidy and Zoey have found the most heinously obnoxious toy to play with.

I can't eat whatever I want anymore

I would have to say I was my skinniest Junior/Senior year of college. And you want to know how I kept my figure? Eating chicken fingers and pasta from alliot every night, drinking a 30 rack of bush light every weekend and never, I mean NEVER stepping foot inside of a gym. And to think, I thought I was so "fat" back then. Well getting older sucks. My metabolism has already changed immensely. Probably also due to the fact that I blew up like a overfilled tick when I was pregnant with Cassidy doesn't help either. When I talked to my doctor about it you want to know what he said to me? Peri-menopause. WHAT.THE.WHAT. Excuse me Mr. I have no idea what the hell I am talking about, but I am not even 30 yet. Yep. That was his response, which when I left his so called doctors office, I immediately called my mom to cry about it. And you want to know what she said? She just reconfirmed it. "Hate to break it to yah kid, but women in our family start going through that at a very young age". GREAT. AWESOME. love my life! 

However not all of my recent realizations are horrible. I have also realized that by the time both my kids are graduated from high school and on their ways to college I will be the ripe age of 44. Heck yes! And at that time I will be able to run free! I am hoping Ian and I can buy a house somewhere tropical and just leave all our worries behind. And I just had another realization, I am completely delusional.