Can't hang like I once did

I remember a time, in what feels like a distant and far off universe, when I could go out several nights a week, be an athlete, a student, and a full time employee and still function like all of those independent but intricately interwoven personae. NOT. ANY. MORE!!!
I remember being able to go out on a Friday night and still get up at 0500 for a regatta, row several races ("Big like moose, strong like ox. We drink acid, we eat rocks, MHC oarswomen and cox"), go out that night and still get up on Sunday to go to work-study and do homework. Or go out Saturday night and still get up and walk to church on Sunday morning.
OY!!! NOT. ANY. MORE!!!
Please let it be known that even in my heyday I was never a big drinker just a night owl, and therein lies what must have been my salvation. Why did I not remember that this past weekend? Oh that's right, b/c it felt like I'd just been paroled.
So let me back up and explain.
Saturday night was a friend's going away party. She and her family are making yet another pit stop in the world of military moves in northern VA (yes, I am green at the gills with jealousy as she will be only a stones throw from home--DC). There were about ten of us parolees (aka Mommies) out that night. And for the first time in I don't even know how long, I was not a DD or having to drive myself. Perhaps that was my first mistake.
Anyway, fast forward a few hours and my decision to drink most of my dinner and you get to one rather inebriated person. I remember the whole night and I remember having a very good time with the girls. I also remember the next day...which I wish I couldn't.
After three extremely STRONG mixed drinks and maybe four or five bottles of beer (okay, so maybe a few recollections are blurry but that's more b/c I chose not to keep count), I was just trying to make it through the drive home. Which actually now seems to have gone very fast despite a roadside stop.
I also remember getting to my front door which is always unlocked b/c I'm the only who locks it and finding it GASP--LOCKED. I know I did not lock it since I did not have my keys with me. Darn preschooler! Gooey! The next sequence of events is completely inexplicable to me. No rhyme nor reason.
For some crazy moment I thought I was back in my OCS days and could hop a wall to get onto my patio and let myself in through the sliding glass door. However, there were a few incongruent details to this scheme. First of all, even at OCS, women get a box to stand on. I had no box--just 4" heels. Upper body strength has never been a great asset of mine--so there I was in 4" heels and little black shorts trying to shimmy over this wall. But first, I had to somehow ditch my wristlet and hurricane glass souvenir--both of which I unceremoniously just tossed over the wall. Yeah hi, even drunk, glass breaks if you toss it. Hindsight--20/20.
Needless to say my little force recon move failed and I had to saunter around to the back of the house. I got in, got upstairs, remembered to put the trashbin by the bed just in case and promptly fell asleep--I did manage to take off my shoes, get undressed, take out my contacts and brush my teeth--never an excuse for poor hygiene. But I have absolutely no idea what time it was and thus no idea how much sleep I got before the boys were up at 7 am (actually, that's sleeping in so thank heavens for small mercies.)
I got the boys breakfast and the DH came down to take over. Because, in the words of Porky the Pig, th-th-thaaattt's all folks.
I went back to bed. Woke up to put the toddler down for a morning nap. Woke up to help with lunch and get the boys down for their afternoon nap and then went back to sleep. I LOST most of the day!
The most amazing part of this is the empathy demonstrated by my DH. It amazes me that I could be on my deathbed with illness and not get that much unspoken cooperation and help. But a nasty hangover suddenly evokes Suzy Homemaker. WTF? Either way, I'll take it!
Now that I'm back in the land of the living, I realized a few things:
1) I really never was cut out to be a drinker. I still think it's a waste of good money to either puke or piss away all that hard earned currency. I had a good time, the drinks were great the first time around but this is really an isolated activity rather than a habit.
2) There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. A glass or two of wine amongst friends is great but heavy consumption of libations means you have foggy memories of your friends. Not worth the tradeoff.
3) I am not GI Jane despite my residency on a military installation. It is not morning PT. Heels do not equate to a box. And I need to look into fitness!
4) I have never been sympathetic to people who complain of hangovers and I don't plan to start being so. I knew better and I chose to ignore the little angelic MC on my shoulder and suddenly thought my initials stood for Mariah Carey and that I can roll like that. Well I can't!
5) And irony of ironies--I was supposed to work the nursery at my church yesterday but had to dis-gracefully bow out (no, I did not tell the truth that I was too hungover, are you kidding me? I claimed tummy troubles--which wasn't a complete fib on a Sunday ). Too drunk to go to church! Well off to think about my penance for that! Next Sunday's confession should be interesting!