New Year's

I have officially crawled over the imaginary wall from youth into old age. This year, for the first time I can ever remember, I am spending New Year's Eve at home. Not only am I at home, but I am doing nothing, and I'm doing it by myself. Mikayla is in bed, as is Adam. He has to be at work at 4:00 a.m. At this point, you might be feeling sorry for me, but that is not my intent. I am actually perfectly OK with doing nothing.

That's why I am now old. In my younger years, I would have to know where the action was; where the party was; where everyone would be; what was happening. I replay my memovies (that's memory movies - remembering events in your life, but you are watching from a distance like a movie) in my mind. I chuckle at myself for the mischief I got into.

I remember one particular New Year's Eve, and I said to a friend, "The day I don't do anything on New Year's Eve is the day I'm old." And so we have it, friends.

I think it's weird though, how OK with being home I really am. I could be out with friends, but I wanted to stay home. I wanted to do nothing tonight. That's so outside of who I have been in years past. I guess people really do grow up and get responsible. As the song says, "some people change." Or they just get old.

Stranded

Ok, so I just got finished spending WAY too much money at Wal-Mart. Mikayla is with me, and Adam is at a friend's house watching the game. I'm walking out to the car, thinking about the logistics of getting all the groceries in the car, and keeping Mikayla safe from the potential baby snatchers in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I'm usually parked near a cart return. so it's not a big deal. Do I put her in first, then the groceries? Then how do I take the cart back? Do I put the groceries in, then Mikayla? Again, what about the cart? So I decide to put the groceries in first, take Mik with me to return the cart, then load Mik in.

Ok, so as I mentioned before, I spent WAY too much money, so my cart is overflowing, and I had to carry the diaper bag on my shoulder. I stick that in the seat first, then the groceries. I shut the back of the Tahoe, and start to take the cart back. I return to find that the car is locked. With my keys in the diaper bag. Which is in the seat, remember? In addition to my keys in the car, so is my wallet, my phone, Mik's bottles, diapers and everything.

I hold it together long enough to make it inside to use the phone. I lose it when Adam's phone goes right to voicemail and I realize I do not know ANYONE'S number by heart. There's no need to know numbers now with the advent of cell phones and the wonderful notion that is speed dial. I call my dad, but he's 45 minutes away.

I find a security guard who doesn't have a jimmy -- it got stolen. Ironic, isn't it? He lets me use his phone to call a locksmith, which I do. I call my dad back, and he's finally gotten ahold of Adam, and when I hear his voice, I boo-hoo. I couldn't hold it in.

The locksmith came and rescued me, and Adam made it up to Wal-Mart just as the locksmith was driving away. It was such a relief to get back in my car. I had been locked out almost an hour. Mik was so good, too. I was quite proud, and we made a memory that I can tell Mik about when she gets older so that she may never lock her own keys on her own car. Especially when she has a 6 month old infant!