Motherhood changes us, no doubt about it. According to Paige Wolf, Philly mom, blogger and author of Spit that Out, it’s early to bed. Every. Single. Night. It’s a Mom Bedtime. And that’s totally cool with her.
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I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I was the polar opposite.
Like many of us, in college I drank a lot. I’m talking blackout / bad-decisions / stuff you’re glad happened well before the smartphone curve.
And it was not uncommon for me to sleep past 1 p.m., with roommates checking to make sure I still had a pulse. I made every effort to schedule my classes in the afternoon and was lucky if I made it to them.
I spent a short winter semester in London where I literally partied for 31 straight nights. I never climbed the stairs of St. Paul’s Cathedral or saw Kensington Palace. I was a night owl with an iron stomach and the ability to peacefully sleep off a hangover.
In my 20s things slowed down. I married young and had to wake at 7 to get to work. Sure, there were a few hard-partying weekends, but the recovery time between them was far longer.
At 30 I had my first child and became desperate to get to bed by 10, as I knew I’d be woken with the roosters. One in a blue moon I’d go for a night on the town, but I was certain to pay for it, often taking a full 48 hours to recover.
But after I had my daughter at 33, partying days were officially over. And I don’t just mean taking shots off a bartender’s abs – I’m talking about nary a glass of wine with dinner. I had hit a wall.
Between running a business, raising two children, a dedicated fitness routine (because I am a late-in-life-blooming-athlete), and keeping some semblance of a home, I was lucky if I made it to 9 p.m. All non-mandatory post-happy-hour events were declined. I once did an “Irish Goodbye” at a wedding before the main course was served.
If I had one single cocktail, I would likely spend the night hovering over the toilet. For about 45 minutes the feeling of alcohol pulsing through my blood would make me feel young and alive. That feeling rapidly devolved into nausea and exhaustion, lasting days on end.
Eight solid hours of sleep were non-negotiable. Though, I could go to bed at 3 a.m. and my eyes would still open at 6 a.m. – even on vacation. In fact, I recently took a short trip to San Juan with a girlfriend under the condition that she understood it would be lights out at 9 and running five miles at 6 a.m. As she nursed her beer at a bar in Old San Juan at 8:45 p.m., I was pretty sure she wanted to kill me.
But here’s the thing – I’m mostly OK with it. Sure, I desperately wish I could still enjoy a proper night out with the girls or actually go see my favorite band in concert. It’s unfortunate that my body has developed an allergic reaction to both alcohol and sundown.
But I genuinely like being a morning person now. I love starting my day with a protein shake and run along the Schuylkill River Trail. I look forwarding to cuddling up with Friday night’s recording of “Last Call with Bill Maher” at 8 p.m. on a Saturday. I vastly prefer to eat dinner at 5 p.m. I have, in fact, become an elderly person. I just wish the rest of my 36-year-old friends were on board with my lifestyle choice.
That said I truly appreciate that they continue to ask me to join them for concerts and parties and ask me what my plans are for New Year’s Eve. Please – keep asking! And maybe someday I will surprise myself with a social resurgence, keeping everyone up in the nursing home.
Paige Wolf is a publicist, author, and green living expert who uses her media savvy and personal moxie to promote manageable eco-chic living. Her book and blog Spit That Out: The Overly Informed Parent’s Guide to Raising Healthy Kids in the Age of Environmental Guilt (New Society Publishers, 2016) offers advice on making green living practical, manageable, and affordable. She lives in Philadelphia with her husband, two children, and American Hairless Terrier. Follow @paigewolf on Twitter.