SO, here's a conversation I had with Jonathan yesterday.
J: "Mom...how late can we stay up tomorrow night?"
M: "I don't know. 9:15?"
J: "Mom! That's our normal bedtime."
M: "Ok. How about 9:20?"
J: "I was thinking at least midnight."
UGH!! That means I have to stay up until midnight.
I suppose it is you know, tradition to stay up until the New Year arrives. Usher it in, if you will. I just like me my sleep. It wasn't always that way, of course. When I was Jonathan's age, my brother and I would make every effort to stay up until midnight and then when the New Year came we'd throw the confetti we had been making for the past several hours all over the living room. That was fun to clean up.
Then in my teen and college years, New Year's Eve was fun. Especially one time with a bunch of teenagers, some alcohol, and a hot tub. I won't give any more details since my parents read my blog, and, because that was 20-some years ago and I'm not sure I can remember them.
When I met Rob, his family has a great tradition of getting all dressed up and his dad, who is a super chef, makes a fancy, schmancy dinner. That was fun!
But, now I really can't remember the last time I stayed up. No scratch that. I DO remember. It was 1999. Canned goods and water in one arm and a fistful of money in another I waited for the world as we knew it to end. 3! (wait for it...) 2! (wait for it...) 1! (wait for it....) HAPPY NEW YEAR! And, then...nothing. Except for the sinking realization that I was stuck with 57 cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
Staying up just isn't my thing. However, even though it's not my thing. And, even though I've been getting no sleep what with the stomach virus going around our house, I'll let Jonathan stay up so that he can start the New Year with those he loves most...and be thankful that, at least for now, I get to be one of those people.