Sunday was a blur of running kids back and forth to play dates and more kid stuff and then more kid stuff. After I got both of them into bed I realized, shit. I was supposed to get drunk on tequila with a whole bunch of other people on an outdoor patio somewhere littered with piñatas and other culturally insensitive paraphernalia. But here I am celebrating Cinco de Mayo by myself in my pajamas, in bed with a bowl of tortilla chips, looking at photos of dogs on Instagram. The Heather who lived in West Hollywood would be so excited about her future.