As you know, young parents arise from slumber when baby choses to rise, and they must often sleep when baby sleeps. One minute you're a carefree young adult able to stay up late at night and sleep in late the next day, but, in the wink of an eye, gone are the late hours, and you find yourself thankful to go to bed not too very long after baby.
I clearly remember visiting Cuppa's parents in Toronto, and after some sort of family get-together, Cuppa and I tucked in the wee one, perhaps around nine or ten o'clock as she wasn't always an early-to-bed baby especially in a strange place, and Cuppa's parents' place certainly qualified as strange. Whaever. We followed the little one's suit shortly thereafter and soon trundled off to slumber land ourselves. Hours later, let's say around one o'clock in the morning, give or take, I stumbled groggily out of bed to attend to a certain bodily necessity. There were Cuppa's parents, aka Thesha's grandparents, having a whale of a time with extended family. They were sitting around the kitchen table, finding many things to carry on about and laugh uproariously over. I mean, they were having a great hoot and a holler of a time.
To this day, I remember (or think I remember) almost my exact words to them. I believe that I squinted up my sleep-encrusted eyes and tiredly muttered or groggily growled, "So there is life after kids?" as I shuffled wearily and resignedly past them on my way back to bed.
Of course, as children are wont to do, Thesha grew up, and she became the nocturnal one. As a late teenager/young twenty something, she wouldn't even contemplate going out until ten o'clock. The hours, and I do mean hours, before her grand exit were reserved for the marathon of showering, shampooing, make-upping, and hair-fixing.
Saturday evening, not altogether for the first time, the shoe was on the other foot. Thesha stayed home to tend to the wee one and get a decent night's sleep while Cuppa and I went out to hear a local group at a nearby pub. Somewhat in commemoration of the younger Thesha, I even did the shower and make-ready bit in the hours prior to departure. It was a tame impression of Thesha at her best, but I did what I could. The gig didn't begin until nine o'clock, and we were there ... and Thesha wasn't. It's her turn to stay home with the youngun, just as it is our turn to be more footloose once again.
I'm tempted to say that the circle has spun around, but that's not exactly true because a circle implies that you come back to the same spot. And we haven't. Of course, we're not in the same place as we were more than three decades ago. How could we be? It's impossible on so many levels, but for one thing, we don't have the same energy-level as we used to. And while we find it nice enough to get out and party (if party is the right word, and I'm unsure that it is), we don't experience the same exhilaration, the same rush of excitement.
It's not really a circle, more like a spiral. A downward spiral might I add. No, I'm not attempting to be gloomy. Just realistic. If there's a circle of life it's that the pattern repeats itself generation after generation but not really within one individual's lifetime. As young adults, we stay up late and socialize avidly. Then we enter the tied-down years after which we experience a second round of freedom. Although it's the same in a sense, it's very different too. For one thing it's more of a trial than a joy to push yourself to stay out until after the witching hour.
So, it's official. It's Monday morning, and I'm in a downward spiral. Sheesh! I think I'll go back to bed.