it's funny.

Sometimes when Brandon and I are sitting in the couch, or driving home from somewhere, or eating dinner we like to play a little game called "Remember when...". It's not an actual game and most of the time we don't even realize we're playing it but I've noticed that we do it quite often and it always comes after having an extremely heartwarming moment with Ty. We go back and forth with each other, remembering what our dreams were like before Ty was even a thought in our minds and we laugh because looking at in hindsight, it was all really quite silly. 

It goes a little something like this:

"Remember when we said we would rather be homeless then move out of the city and into the country?"

"Remember when it wasn't really a Saturday night if we didn't have plans with a group of friends that ended with us having to call a cab because we were too drunk to drive?"

"Remember when our biggest goal was to plan a beach vacation for the upcoming summer?"

"Remember when people would ask us when we would start having kids and we would laugh, quite hysterically, in their face?"

And we could go on and on. 

It's funny how having a child can change everything. 

This past Saturday night, Brandon and I ate a quiet dinner that we cooked together at home and before we sat down to catch up some of our recorded tv we decided to head out to curb our sweet-tooth and get some frozen yogurt. We were dressed in sweats and oversized t-shirts and with baby in tow we headed out on a Saturday night. On the way to the ice cream shop, we passed The Station, a bar not too far from our house that used to be Brandon's old stomping grounds. We looked on as young and not-so-young people that were dressed in their Saturday-night-best stumbled in and out of that bar, laughing and yelling and for one poor girl, even throwing up in the parking lot. And then Brandon said it first...

"Remember when that was us?"

And I did remember. Because it wasn't that long ago at all, even though it felt like centuries. Those days were spent care-free with cocktails in hand where we would sleep in until noon and live paycheck to paycheck. Our "long-term" goals were only months ahead of us and the thought of saving money for the future seemed smart but something that we would focus on doing when we became "grown-ups". And I remember actually feeling sorry for people our age who had children and couldn't live their lives as care-free as we could.

And it's funny how warped I had it. 

Because sitting on the couch in our pajamas while we watch recorded episodes of Swamp People with Ty bouncing on our knees while we try to hurry up and eat our frozen yogurt before it melts is a certain kind of Saturday night perfection. And I wish I could shake my former self and tell her, "Just wait. These nights may seem fun but the best nights of your life are yet to come. And it's funny, because you'll be covered in spit-up and haven't had a chance to put on make-up in 3 days and you're not going to want to go to bed too late because you'll be woken up by 7 a.m. the next morning and expected to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by a certain little man who smiles the sweetest gummy little grin when he looks at you. And it's the best. It's better than any night out and any party dress and any 5-star restaurant. Your little family will make your heart swell with love and admiration and pure, honest, can't-be-compared-to-anything happiness. And you'll have an appreciation for life and your future and who you are and who you want to be like you've never had before."

And it's funny because I do. I really, really do.