A New Year’s Eve to suit every life stage
IT’S THE DAY AFTER Christmas and if your house is anything like mine, your bin will be stuffed with wrapping paper, fridge full with half a trifle, a plate of ham and various salads, toys will be littering the kids’ room and your spare bedroom will be taken up by family members.
I love the aftermath of Christmas. Everybody is content and if you’re lucky enough to have time off work, the days roll into one big, timeless loop of afternoon drinks, sunshine and lazing about.
I also love the aftermath of Christmas because it means we are now on the homestretch to New Year’s Eve. (And this year, in particular, I am quite happy to see the back of!)
New Year’s Eve has never been that big a deal to me, especially working in media, where you’re required to work public holidays. I tend to sacrifice New Year’s Eve in order to have Christmas off.
But what I have always enjoyed is how a person’s New Year’s Eve celebrations change depending on the stage of life they’re at.
I remember being a kid and New Year’s Eve being the one night a year we were allowed to stay up until midnight.
My siblings, cousins and I would play Singstar while our parents socialised. We were still hyped up on Christmas chocolate and excited to be let in on a party that we were once sent to bed for, so spirits were high.
As midnight ticked over, Celebration by Kool & The Gang would play on MTV and we would do our “whiskey shot” (which was just water and food colouring) and then be shuffled off to bed.
As a teenager, New Year’s Eve was all about going to a beach town with a group of friends — sans hovering parents — with a bunch of tents and sugar-laden premixed drinks that guaranteed a killer hangover.
There was usually some kind of drama that night, people hooking up who shouldn’t have, that one friend who drank too much, and other ridiculous tiffs now long forgotten.
But every year, the promise of an epic New Year’s Eve would have us eagerly making plans in March.
Last year was my first New Year’s Eve as a mum. A mum of a 4-week-old to be precise.
It was a rather subdued affair. The baby had his last feed at 11pm and I had expressed enough milk for the following day so I could have a glass of wine and the traditional whiskey shot.
Hubs and I cuddled on the couch and watched TV until the clock chimed 12. We cheersed to a great 2020 (what a waste!) and went to bed exhausted, knowing I would be woken by a crying baby in a couple of hours.
Fast forward to this year and both hubby and I are working so we certainly are not preparing for a rager.
But at least our boy sleeps through the night now so the thought of staying up until midnight and having a couple of drinks doesn’t fill me with dread.
As the years go by, our New Year’s Eve plans will change again and when our son is a bit older, he will be the one experiencing the excitement of his first “real” New Year’s Eve while we, his parents, socialise with our friends, just as my parents once did.
It’ll be a full circle and that’s the magic of the ever-changing New Year’s Eve.