When I was younger, one of the biggest
nights of the year was New Year’s Eve.
The build-up usually surpassed the reality but I still went for it, year
in year out.
It just had to be done. Looking back, I think I had a chronic case of
FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and it took me years to admit that NYE was actually
a bit rubbish.
I suppose middle age will do that to
you; you want to go out but there are conditions: will I have to walk and will there be a seat
when I get there?
Fast forward a few decades and the
shine finally wore off NYE. In actual
fact, it’s been ten years since I saw in the New Year.
Christmas was great this year. The best one in a long time if I’m to be
honest. The kids are older and their
excitement levels knew no bounds. However, they couldn’t possible compete with
Storm Eva, just one of the many ravages our little country has experienced
during the month of December.
Cries of “this is the best Christmas
Day ever!” and “This is the best Christmas dinner ever!” and “we love
Christmas!” were very gratifying but cabin fever was setting in.
For me.
My phone pinged. But the message came through at a time when I
was forcing four boys under jet streams of water and into bubble baths. Followed by hot chocolates and bedtime.
It was the following morning before I
saw the message. It appeared I had
missed the opportunity for a few drinks in the pub.
New Year’s Eve rolled round and one of
my sisters was having a get together in hers.
I considered driving so I’d be bright eyed and bushy tailed for a
certain New Year’s Day birthday. In the
end I accepted a lift and had a few beers with the banter.
At this stage in my life I consider this
to be the best way to spend NYE; the company is great, the food is moreish and
most importantly of all, I’ve got a seat.
However, I cannot ignore the other
fact of middle age – I get banjaxed at the drop of a hat.
Particularly if there is a drop taken. And I was drinking beer because it is kinder
to me than wine.
It was 11.10 and the troops decided to
take the party downtown. I decided to take
my sorry, tired, middle-aged self home. So
I wished them all a good night, a Happy New Year and as luck would have it, I was
very kindly dropped home.
I was home by 11.30 and I paid my
usual visit to each of the boys’ bedrooms to wish them a goodnight as I had
missed bedtime. The older two boys were
still awake having stayed up to watch a movie.
Absolutely wrecked and wondering when it
was midnight, their eyes closed as I kissed them and wished the birthday boy a
happy 8th birthday twenty minutes early.
I paid a visit to the other two boys
who were happily snoring softly and then into my own bed.
It was a happy new year but I was just
happy they were near.
Goodbye 2015, you were good to me and
hello 2016. I am expecting some
fantastic things from you. No pressure.
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