Rematch.

My Creative Writing II professor once told my smug little class of undergrads that the older you get, the uglier and smellier and “un-cute” your hangovers get. He was all of 30 at the time, but I remember thinking that he must get very rumpled and smelly and un-cute with a hangover. He looked like that sober. Anyway, New Year’s Day morning is often a contest to see who is the most gamey after the previous night’s festivities. This year, I’m pretty sure the gamiest award went to Des.

After a night of a little too much food and drink, and canoodling with pretty ladies, he was in great need of a bath today. And how odd that the youngest New Year’s partier was the most rumpled and greasy. My professor was wrong!

I’m definitely an “everything in moderation” type of person. I think the only thing I ever cold-turkeyed was Scarlet’s pacifier use at six months. First of all, that was a great decision. Second of all, it didn’t concern my own use of something. Oh, wait! I cold-turkeyed “Grey’s Anatomy” rather suddenly after it occurred to me that it was suddenly (or gradually?) a terrible show. First of all, that was a great decision. Second of all, also not sure if that counts as any kind of great feat. Yet, I never looked back…Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately, both as observations from myself and from others, that when I’m immersed in my iPhone in front of Scarlet (and eventually Des), well, that really sucks. Imagine if when we were kids, our parents had their noses in their phones while we were trying to talk to them, eat with them, play with them, etc. I think I’d have been pretty upset, or maybe I just say that because it was NOT their way of parenting. It was not the norm.

I don’t want Scarlet to grow up with that being her norm. I’m not doing cold turkey and this is no kind of resolution. I just happen to be talking about it on January 1st of the new year. I’m going to rein it in when she’s around. And in general.

I’ve been slightly haunted for a year from something that happened with a friend’s son, Nate, last year:

He’s the one on the right, holding the cute baby. This was exactly a year ago as we all do New Year’s Eve/Day together every year. He’s a gorgeous boy, in and out. I met him when he was two and we had an Elmo parade around and around his house. For a half hour. I didn’t get tired once. Last year on New Year’s Eve, when he was seven, he kept asking me to go downstairs and see some sort of fort/tower/spaceship/awesome boy thing he had constructed out of pillows with his brother. I kept putting him off. To cut myself a bit of a break, I was in my first trimester and I felt pretty tired. However, his beautiful eyes were so earnest in asking me to simply go downstairs and see what he did. I’m sad to say I never made it downstairs, and before I could get my wake-up call, he was asleep and I had missed my chance. I was sad.

I never lingered over it, but I never forgot. Last night, a year later and a brain cell or two smarter, he asked me to play a floor hockey game with him. I was immersed in my camera and external flash batteries and sleeping angels, but I told him I would once I put my camera down. A picture or two later, I slapped myself in the face (not really) and really did put the camera down and joined him for a game of floor hockey. He kicked my ass but I got such a rush every time I scored a goal and it was a blast and he’s amazing and I’m so glad he asked me to play and I’m so glad I had the sense to say yes.

We played rematch after rematch until he went to bed. He won most of the time. I accused him of cheating a few times. I cheated a few times. It was awesome. I considered it a rematch of my brain after being so stupid last year.

And today, we recover. It was a late night. Here are some sleeping angel pictures as a Happy New Year’s to you.