BoomerGirl Diary

Lois: When did 8:30 get late?

About a month ago, Jackie, 18, was home from college on semester break. One evening she came home from babysitting during dinner hours and told me that she would like to make plans with friends to go to a movie. “Well,” I said, “you’re getting a late start. It’s already after 8:30.”

“…After 8:30 ?!” Did that really come out of MY mouth? Ms. Stay Up All Night? Ms. Poster Child for the Sleep Deprived? I still don’t know what stunned me more; that I could be actually thinking that 8:30 is late, or that 8:30 is late!

This is the property of becoming more mature that is least agreeable with my nature. I have conceded to eating dinner earlier as that is now possible and a sensible health issue. I have yielded to having only one drink at “girls’ night out” dinners and only staying out until 11:00 ( OK — maybe midnight) because it’s just pitiful when everyone around the table is yawning! 8:30 late? Not possible.

Taking a little trip down “When I was your age” lane, my friends and I used to frequent a club at the shore called Dunes ‘til Dawn. I know exactly where the sun sets and rises over our shore town. Concerts didn’t even start until 10:00, and dare I call upon boomer girls out there that did the mother of all concerts, all day, all night, all weekend?

As a parent, the night vision was appreciated by all the other parents. I always volunteered to “pick up.” Taking all the friends home after parties and dances was no problem. It even became a standing joke with my girls. Sneaking out of our house at night? Impossible, their mom was always up!

And the spontaneity of the witching hours! Waking the girls to drive to the shore on a clear August night to watch the Perseid meteor showers, or heading out to a midnight movie were great chic nights. Sitting on the deck playing cards with the neighborhood women, talking and laughing to the wee hours of the morning was amazing therapy for our group of young wives and mothers.

I must be giving into peer pressure. I hear the others saying things like, “I didn’t fall asleep last night until after 10:00.” I realize that my house is the only one venting dryer steam after midnight. 8:30 is not necessarily late, but I think it is no longer a good starting time. Perhaps it is time to begin wrapping up another great day.

Still a night owl, I look forward to late night calls from the girls. I tie up the loose ends of the day and plan for the next. I savor those hours when the house is all mine. I know every star in the deepest blue of the night sky, and the way the full moon casts light and shadows over the contours of our yard.

But alas, I find myself running out of steam somewhere between Letterman and midnight Oprah. Seems I’m not eighteen anymore ~ or thirty ~ or forty ! Somewhere in there the “spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” comes into play, and I learn that the beauty sleep our moms told us to get is a reality, and that the mysteries of the night belong to the young.

Chrystin, 29: As I am rapidly approaching a BIG birthday, I have lately wondered how I used to do it. I can remember a time, not so long ago, when I was making my plans to go out at 11 p.m. And anyone who suggested you show your face at the bar before 11 was like, a total old head. Everyone knows the scene doesn’t start until nearly midnight.

Nowadays, a Friday night that once consisted of dancing until 2 a.m. is comprised of laundry, dinner out, a drink or two, and watching “What Not To Wear” in bed. Fun, huh? Well, here’s the thing … I think it is fun. The bottom line is what I found fun at 23 just doesn’t evoke the same rush it once did; don’t get me wrong, it’s still fun to go out every once in a while with my girls and live it up.

For those of you wondering, after reading my mom’s entry, it‘s all true. She did indeed wake us up in the middle of night and take us to the shore to see the meteor showers (and not just once either). And believe me, it was worth it. We never got to sneak out or in because she was always up ready to ask a myriad of questions about where you’re going or where you were. Those are some great memories that only the four of us can share.

Jackie, 18: So this whole time thing with my mom is the absolute truth. I distinctly remember having my junior license and it feeling like the longest year ever before I was able to have my senior license and stay out with the car past eleven! Once that time came, I used to tell my mom my plans for the evening around eight o'clock and want to leave right after I told her, and she absolutely hated that. I would still have to be in by eleven due to her its too late to be out rule.

Laura, 25: Forget 8:30 p.m. When did 8:30 a.m. get late?!

Unlike my sisters, I never inherited my mom’s night owl gene. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve pulled my fair share of all-nighters — for papers and for parties — but in general, I start shutting down around 11 p.m.

My mother did, however, endow me with her ability to sleep in and take naps. With no alarm, I could easily sleep until noon most days, but lately, the later I stay in bed, the guiltier I feel. Where once my Saturday wouldn’t start until 1 or 2 p.m., I feel wasteful if I sleep past 8. I’m not sure why, but I feel cramped if I don’t get to the gym and run all my errands by noon, leaving the rest of my day for leisure or recreation. I even go to the early mass on Sundays. And while there is something satisfying about using the early hours of my free days, it would be nice — once in a while — to stay between those covers without shame for just a few more hours.