Old or Boring

The other night I was chatting on Facebook with some friends from college. (This is me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1082820283&ref=profile. If you aren't my friend yet, friend me. I accept everyone, even mortal enemies. 'Cause you know what they say, Keep your friends close and stalk enemies and ex-boyfriends on Facebook.)

Said friends were drunk. Hillariously drunk. It was Saturday night. Not only was I sober, but I was playing Vampire Wars in my jammies in bed at 9:30. Seriously. Not a problem, though, it's not like I don't have interesting exploits to draw from for conversationalist purposes, right? Right? Damn, do cute stories about your kids or what happened on House last week count, 'cause that's all I've got.

Often when such a situation occurs, I laugh at myself and say, "I am sooo old." Here's the kicker, though. I'm not. I am not at all any older than these guys. Maybe I'm boring. I'm a boring mom-type sitting at home in her jammies.

I don't have a particuarly interesting life. I work, I raise kids (I don't care if you raise corn and rear kids - I raise kids), I obsess over grammar (obviously), I'm in a book club, I go to church. I crochet, I read a lot, I play on the computer, I write a blog, I continually plan the book I never have time to write (and make up excuses about never having time to write). But, I don't really think I'm boring. I think I'm the same person I was when I was hanging out with these guys at field parties. Just without the field parties. Wow, do I miss field parties.

Anywho... People didn't hang out with me because I went to parties (I hope.) In fact, I see it the opposite way, I went to parties because I had lots of people to hang out with. So, when did I become boring?

Now, understand, this has nothing to do with field parties (even though I've typed that phrase so much now that it no longer looks like words) or drinking or anything else. It has to do with that list above. That list above of the things I do. Add in go to the grocery, once every two weeks to the library and drop off the kids at their various haunts and that's it. That is the complete list of my life. I do NOTHING that isn't on that list.

I don't know what concerns me more How-did-I-get-here? or What-do-I-do-about-it? or Do-I-really-care? 'Cause I kinda don't. Care that is. I have nights like Saturday where I sit and think about how predictable and boring my life has become, how I have gotten older than my years and taken on more responsibility than I ever planned to. Sometimes I get those stupid "girlfriend" emails where you celebrate your girlfriends and how they are better than husbands and kids and everything and I think "Wow, I'm going to be screwed when my mom dies, 'cause she is seriously my best friend." But most days, I don't care about that stuff.

I have my girls. My beautiful, funny girls. And I have The Husband - a wealth of joy and laughter and frustration and fury. And I have my mom and my brother and my insane grandparents. And I have bookclub, which doesn't meet often enough for me, but still... I have other moms to share mommy moments with, I have my church-y friends to share my G-rated moments with, and I have my college buddies to share the memories of my insanity with.

I guess I'll always miss the crazy, wild version of me. And maybe I'll be that girl again, when my girls are old enough not to need me every moment, you know like when they are grandparents. (I actually think sometimes about how much fun it would be to have a field party for all of my college friends and see who whips out the pictures of their kids and who heads straight for the vodka and Tang (we were some broke kids, people)).

But for now, I think I kinda dig my life. I kinda dig being that weird old lady who still listens to music from the 90's and complains about having to stay up past 10:00. Who can't watch MTV awards shows anymore because she doesn't know any of the nominees. But who still rocks out in the car, could easily sleep until noon and can't wait until I retire so I can wear all my grunge clothes again. When I am old, I shall wear flannel. It's not exactly Maya Angelou, but it'll do.

On a side note, do you ever think about what retirement homes will be like when my generation is old? We'll all be deaf from that darn rock music and we'll all be senile and babbling about Kurt Cobain and singing I Like Big Butts. All those saggy tattoos and droopy peircings. My generation shall embrace blue hair in all it's shades and be the beginning of cammo and tie dyed control pantyhose. It's gonna rock. And I shall be the queen of the geriatric field party.