My Inner Rock Chic

Something left me thinking the other day, what happened to my inner rock chic? I used to be a fun-loving spontaneous life-of-the-party kind of girl. I was getting drunk at Aerosmith concerts, now I'm barely getting buzzed at wine tastings. What happened? I don't even like wine!

Well, I could probably say the first mistake was getting married. Talk about a killjoy. Dating my husband once gave me butterflies in my stomach, now I get hives from the stress of paying the babysitter and oh-my-God what if he drinks dishwasher fluid again! But at least when we were married with no kids we had a lot of date nights. And of course, there was the sex. Now we're looking at very few date nights and even less sex.

And this, of course, is all Mateo's fault. Who feels sexy with dried oatmeal stuck to their shirt and having spent the day wiping a toddler's butt? Not that I don't love him very much and the payoff is totally worth it (most of the time), but it's something we women tend to ignore about motherhood. And I think it's okay to admit that it's our kids fault we're not "cool" anymore. Doesn't Dr.Phil say you can't change what you don't acknowledge? Well, let's acknowledge that our kids ruined part of our lives, leave them with our husbands, and go out and PARTY!!! And if watching Dr.Phil in the middle of the day isn't proof enough that I need to get out, I don't know what is.

So this leads me to ask myself over and over again, when did I become so boring? Not only that, but so cliche'. I've even gone so far as to seriously consider joining the Mom's Club. I know, crazy right?

Not that I want to go out every weekend and party like I used to when I was young and barely legal. Honestly, I don't think I could any more. I'm exhausted by 9pm and feel like I'm gonna puke just being near someone with a cigarette. Somewhere along the way, I've become a wimp. I've gone from rated R to rated G. Did it start when I stopped shopping at cute girlie stores for clothes that showed off my chest and started shopping at Babies R Us for clothes that showed off my son's chest (or...uhhh...eyes) ? Or did it start when I stopped caring what my butt looks like in my jeans but that my jeans actually cover my butt?

Someday I hope to go back to my Aerosmith-loving, rock-girl partying self. Maybe when I'm in my 40's, they are the new 20's you know! Or maybe when I'm a grandma. I'll be the cool old lady that can still shake her hips without breaking one and dies flipping her 'Vet. Until then, mini-vans and Tupperware parties here I come!