I loved my New Year's Eve. We stayed home and had friends over, the food was great, there was plenty of vodka in my cocktails, and thanks to Byerly's delivery service, I didn't have to murder anyone at the grocery store in my quest for limes and a bag of ice. When I woke up on Friday morning without a headache or little socks on my teeth, that's when my optimism for 2010 really kicked into gear. I was almost afraid to get out of bed, figuring the day had nowhere to go but downhill. Instead of discovering a puddle of dog hurl or a leaky dishwasher, though, I started a pot of coffee and managed to make some raspberry/cream cheese-stuffed French toast for breakfast. That's when I: A) seriously started to wonder who was possessing my body, and B) Realized that we were all still in our pajamas, and were supposed to be out the door in an hour.
I am spending the rest of this holiday break slowly getting back to reality. I'll be (quietly) cheering on the boys, keeping track of tennis matches, eating out of a cooler, and saying things like, "Hey, nice passing shot." I signed the boys up for a holiday weekend tennis tournament because I'm hoping it will yank our brains (and their bodies) out of the Christmas coma; it's sort of like hitting a reset button before they go back to school on Monday.
On our way to Charlie's match yesterday, I tried to find some music that would get him motivated. Fortunately, 93X was in the middle of a three-song Metallica set, so I cranked "Enter Sandman," which was followed by "Ain't My Bitch." During the second song, I looked in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Zoe in her booster seat. There she sat, arms flailing over her head, pig tails whipping around, rocking out to James Hetfield. I continued to drive with a smile on my face, thinking there could be no better way to start out the New Year, and that's when she said: "Hey mom. Turn it up. I love this song."