For a while there, we could blame our hermitism and societal lameness on the children.

Gosh, we’d love to go out, but we don’t have a sitter…. we’re exhausted… Wyatt is sick… Jude has a game in the morning… Gigi swallowed our car keys. 

Kids are like built in get-out-of-shit cards. But the real truth of the matter is, we’re boring.

Some people have “old souls” in the sense that they are wise beyond their years, I have an “old soul” in that I like elastic waist housepants and DVR The Price is Right.

Last night Andy and I took the kids to our favorite Mexican restaurant so they could have tacos and Shirley Temples and tell us about their day while we gorged on guacamole and chimichangas.

We got home around 8pm and tucked the kids into bed before collapsing on the couch together as New Girl started.

Hey there sir, do you wanna mess around?

On the couch?

Yup.

I unzipped my jeggings and kicked them off my body. I leaned over and undid his belt and pants.

AND THAT IS THE LAST THING I REMEMBER.

I woke up at 11:45pm, neck sore, drool plastered to my face, our pants in the same state of half on/half off-ness. We had fallen asleep, mid-foreplay, and I’m being generous, because I don’t even remember having it in my hand.

If Fifty Shades had been based on my life, it’d go something like, he spanks me, I like it, he pulls out anal beads, I’m like “but I had Indian…,” then we’d be in bed watching Golden Girls on Nick at Night, eating giant bowls of Raisin Bran.

We’re homebodies. If there is such a thing as soul mates, we’ve found a huge part of that in each other. We don’t go out to clubs or bars. We like hanging out together. We have the same three best friends.  And we are sleepy by 10pm and up by 7am for fun.

Last Saturday we closed down an Indian restaurant with two friends, conversations of religion, and bottles of wine. It was a perfect evening, and we drove home as others, much younger or energized than ourselves, were just heading out for the night.

This Friday I’m excited for our monthly Girls Night Out that consists not of push-up bras and glitter, but of reservations at P.F. Changs and tickets to The Hunger Games.

It’s funny, because I used to think it was hard making friends as an adult, and it is to an extent, but I think the reality is that I’m just way more selective.

Is it okay that I don’t want to run 5ks with you?

Can I call you before 8am to talk about stuff?

Which Babysitter’s Club girl is your favorite? 

I’ve embraced my personality, and each year I get more and more okay with not having tons of friends or endless party invites or picked for any school committees, because I have so many more obligations I’d rather attend to that don’t require Spanx or pants or 5 Hour Energy.

I love that there are moments of our life that are positively crazy and exciting, but at the core, we’re a boring ass people, and I love that about us.

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