Two and a half drinks over the course of an evening with friends and reality has sunk in.  I can no longer hold my alcohol...none.  It's like I'm 16...I mean 21 all over again.  Only now after a few sips I'm ready to slip into my cozy pants and watch a marathon of Hoarders.  I'm no longer the social butterfly I once was.  Last night, however, I hopped on to the coat-tails of some well-healed, "in the know" friends and cavorted with them until the wee hours (9:30 p.m.).  We ate at Hubbard Inn and then found our way to one of those unmarked, un-named, basement clubs for a round of Moscow Mules.  It was great.

I'm always reassured by others that I will hit my social stride once again.  That I will no longer forget what it was I was saying or trail off into some awkward dialogue with myself...and that's before I've even been offered a drink.  Hey parenting young kids can be exhausting.  The timing of our adult-night couldn't have been better as earlier in the day I had hit a new low when I accompanied Ella to a four-year old's birthday party and felt "so hip" watching the kids dance around to One Direction.  LAME in all capitals!  So it was nice to be reminded last night that I still have "it" in me, if only once every few months.  What was even nicer was knowing that I'm not alone in these feelings.  Our one friend felt like he had been "roofied" (he wasn't) and was on his way to his daughter's cheerleading competition this morning.  An auditorium filled with spirited girls?  The epitome of a parent hangover.