New Year's, Post-Baby

You'd think I’d know better by now. New Year’s Eve is overrated at best, and an expensive, drunken disaster at worst. I’ve spent many a December 31st carousing with strangers and shivering on street corners waiting for cabs, and many a January 1st hung-over and hating life. And yet, the next year I’d buy a new outfit and do it all again.

Until I had a baby, that is. Just try finding a sitter on New Year’s. Go on, I dare you. Not to mention that hangovers and 3 a.m. feedings don’t go hand in hand.

So for the past few years, we’ve gotten together with a group of friends and stayed in. No cabs or reservations necessary, and we can bring the kids along. Sounds good in theory, right? Here’s the reality...

4 p.m., New Year’s Eve: Miles has been cranky all day. Riley is teething and whiny, and no one napped. The dog needs to be dropped off at the neighbors’, C. has to go to the liquor store, and I have to pack overnight bags for 3 people. Also, I have nothing to wear.

5 p.m.: We leave the house half an hour late. Everyone’s still cranky. We should really turn around and go home. This was a bad idea.

5:30 p.m.: Crap, I forgot to pack toothbrushes. Pit-stop at CVS.

6:15 p.m.: We arrive at our friends’ house. We haven’t seen them in ages and their kids have gotten so big! This is going to be fun.

7 p.m.: Wow, the kids are all getting along great, and they all ate their dinner. Things are off to a good start.

7:30 p.m.: The baby goes down without a fight. What were we worried about? Piece of cake!

8 p.m.: Our other friends arrive and our hostess puts out the delicious appetizers. The dads are wrangling the older kids into bed. Par-TAY!

8:30 p.m.: The children are nestled all snug in their beds, and the grown-ups are sipping prosecco and feasting on crab dip and chicken skewers. So glad we decided to come.

9 p.m.: Our other friends call with bad news – their sitter stood them up. Can you imagine?! The nerve! The mood grows somber as we mourn for our friends. Should they wake up their kids and bring them over? Should we Skype them?

9:30 p.m.: Dinner is served. Our hostess has outdone herself; the food is superb. The stories, jokes, and cocktails are flowing. I feel like my old, child-free self.

10 p.m.: “I hear somebody. Is that a kid?” It is. Ours. Miles can’t sleep because we’re being too noisy downstairs. C. goes up to tuck him back in.

11:30 p.m.: Almost midnight already? I can’t believe I stayed up this late! I don’t even feel tired.

12 midnight: Happy New Year! I need to sit down. And I better switch to water.

1 a.m.: Sooo tired... Is it lame if I’m the first one to call it a night? Maybe I can last a little bit longer...

1:30 a.m.: Our friends call a cab. Thank GOD. Now I can go to bed.

1:45 a.m.: Miles wakes up as we crawl into bed. Crap. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still nighttime.”

2 a.m.: I’m sweating and someone’s snoring. Please, please, let me fall asleep. I only have a few hours till the baby’s up.

5 a.m., New Year's Day: Riley wakes up crying. Are you KIDDING me?! I lunge for him before he wakes the whole house.

5:30 a.m.: After a half hour of the baby kicking us and clawing at our faces, C. gets up and takes him downstairs. Miles wakes up and gets into bed with me, fully awake. I feel the room spinning. This was a TERRIBLE idea.

6:30 a.m.: C. bursts in, “We have to leave NOW. This is ridiculous!” Unlike the baby, he is not well-rested and brimming with energy. I doubt I could find my own feet right now, let alone drive a car. We retreat to the basement, which is filled with every toy known to man including a life-size dinosaur.

7:30 a.m.: I am in HELL. Miles is dumping out every box of blocks he can find, while the baby finds every single toy that emits loud, electronic noises. Meanwhile, our friends and their kids sleep peacefully upstairs. What is WRONG with my kids?! How did they get the pre-dawn waking gene? And also the loud-as-hell gene??

8:30 a.m.: Our friends are up. There is coffee. Life is good.

Once back home, we spent the next 2 days recovering. I realized it’s not the staying up late part that’s hard for those of us with small children. It’s the getting up early and plunging head-first into the chaos regardless of how much you drank or how little you slept part that kills you.

Next year? I’m staying home and going to bed at 10. And watch -- that will be the year my kids sleep in. Happy New Year!

FLICK O’ THE WEEK: Looking for a cute, quirky romantic comedy? Rent “I’m Reed Fish.” I’m currently intrigued by the actress Schuyler Fisk, who it turns out is Sissy Spacek’s daughter and quite a talented young singer/songwriter. Listen to “From Where I’m Standing” on her MySpace page.