No, not me. Not my style. Never really was.
It's how Jen is spending St. Patrick's Day. She and some friends took the train into Manhattan for the big event.
Hard for me on many levels.
That I have a 21 year old daughter . . . I feel the gray hairs beginning to pop.
That she oh-so-nonchalantly orders a glass of wine or a cocktail from the bar when we go out to dinner . . .
That I can get used to.
It's pub crawls and frat parties and guys hitting on her when she's out having a drink with friends . . .
That's what worries me.
She's 21 and college educated and will soon have a degree and the rest of her life ahead of her. And I think (hope) that she's being smart and sensible and responsible about alcohol and potentially risky situations.
She's an adult now, I can't tell her what to do.
But the mommy worry never stops, does it?