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New Year’s Eve

When I was younger, I was famous for my New Year’s Eve parties.

They started at eight and lasted until five in the morning when we’d talk the two or three sober people into driving us to a diner and feast on biscuits and gravy, telling each other our resolutions to lose weight could start tomorrow.   Then I had kids.   I should have known things were going to change the year I was pregnant with my oldest. For the first time, I dozed off on a handy couch until a friend woke me up just before midnight to blow a horn and kiss my husband. Of course, I went back to sleep almost immediately. Then, the first year I had a baby, I actually stayed up until midnight. Actually, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence. I had one of those babies who partied all night.   As each New Year’s Eve arrived after kids, I found myself celebrating “East Coast” New Year’s. In other words, popping poppers, blowing horns, and drinking champagne at nine. I still set my alarm for five minutes before midnight. I had texts to send, after all. Appearances to keep up. I couldn’t have my friends and family thinking I was in bed before ten.   This New Year’s was no different. Except, after a day spent chasing kids at the beach, I was so tired, I nearly celebrated British New Year’s.   Yes. I know that would have been four in the afternoon.   Did you see the part where I mentioned chasing kids at the beach all day?   I guess I’m getting older. While I still love New Year’s Eve and listen to the fireworks, guns, and poppers with a smile, I’m more than happy to be snuggled contently in bed, sleeping off my two glasses of champagne.   How do you celebrate New Year’s Eve?  

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