New Year's Eve is a funny thing. It looks all glittery from a distance, but I believe most people would say it consistently disappoints given any scenario.
Say you are having an incredible time, a real blast, a totally thrilling night where everything goes right and magic is in the air, once the ball drops and everyone disperses, you're suddenly weepy because change is coming and nothing could ever top this moment and now it's a new year and you want to sleep and those doughy potstickers are mixing with four sugar-rimmed appletinis to make your party dress tug at the seams.
On the flip side, if you have a terrible time, where nothing happens as planned and the weather is crap and your company is crappier or maybe you have no plans at all and you're planted on the couch flipping between Mystery Diagnosis and ABC's Rockin' Eve with poor Dick Clark, then the whole evening and all its hype is a total let down even if your sweatpants are a pleasure.
And those are my rather bleak-sounding thoughts on the holiday. I'm generally an optimist, definitely upbeat and resilient during the worst of times, but also a realist. In my opinion, New Year's Eve is doomed to disenchant because feelings are clashing at high speeds.
Now poll the same group of people (from my pretend poll) and they will probably loathe the resolution concept, too. But I think it's great! I make the same ones over and over. I resolve to be more patient with certain individuals who drive me insane and I vow to be on time for appointments and activities. The last one promises I will scream less at my children and that is a fantastic bonus outcome. I embrace the yearly nudge to be better and do better.
Just for fun, and because this blog is about recording memories as well as thoughts, I will now piece together my personal New Year's Eve timeline.
When I was real young, my parents dropped me off at my grandparents' house and went somewhere groovy to disco dance. This may be my imagination colliding with top trends of the era, but let's go with it.
Then for a few years, they brought me with them to my friend's house because - get this - they were friends with her parents. It was the perfect set-up! Parents partied downstairs. We hung upstairs and I can't remember much else. Apparently the sparkling grape juice was pretty potent.
During my teen years I babysat for a giant group of unruly children who were ignored while I scavenged for snacks. At that age, other people's pantry items are far more appealing than anything you have in your cabinets at home. It's a rule.
For the next decade and a half, my "eves" seem to run together. I couldn't place them in sequential order if you paid me. (And no one's paying me for this blog, which is precisely what Jon is thinking when I complain about my self-imposed Friday deadlines.)
There were a couple of years spent in basements that smelled like old laundry. I was in New York once. Not Times Square. And, for reasons unknown, I went to Wildwood, NJ, to watch a Grateful Dead cover band and stay in perhaps the dumpiest motel on planet earth. We also swung by Atlantic City during that trip and after requesting only cash for Christmas, I gambled it away in about ten minutes.
When Jon and I were first married and living in our cute little house in Baltimore, we started hosting a small but stellar party every year with only close friends, appetizer recipes cut from magazines and quality music mixes. We were caught between the allure of a grown-up world and our pre-kid youth, meaning we launched the night with signature cocktails and smart discussions on world events, and ended it with breakdancing to Grand Master Flash.
We even took on the daunting challenge of welcoming the millennium. I couldn't believe anyone would trust their HAPPY 2000! moment to my party planning skills. To quell the pressure, I drank too much and passed out at 12:05. Guests had to roll me off of their coats in order to go home. You'll be happy to learn that I didn't throw up on anyone's pricey pashmina. (Though who would have cared? Pashminas were so 1999!)
Since moving back to Philly, we've had friends over a few times with kids and noisemakers and champagne headaches. It was fun and sentimental and a little sad, too. Your basic, unavoidable, New Year's Eve mash-up of emotion.
Tomorrow we are laying low by design. There were possibilities, but we decided to stay home. It will be a glitz-free evening with the possible exception of a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon if the stars line up in my favor. Nothing boosts potentially sagging holiday spirits more than train wreck families who spray tan their children.
And if this is our last New Year's Eve, with the world ending at some point during 2012, I will be satisfied knowing I didn't spend it in clothes that bind.
What are your thoughts on New Year's Eve?
How many New Year's Eves can you recall?
I remember that millennium new year's eve! Being 5 months pregnant and therefore stone cold sober I recall most of the details (unusual for me). I remember being in a panic b/c I was pregnant and so worried if all the doomsayers were right and all the computers and the power grids failed and what if I went into labor (4 months early!!) in your adorable house in Stoneleigh. I was so stressed I hardly remember you passing out-but what a great time!
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