My husband and I had a rare night off for a friend’s wedding this weekend. Since our amazing babysitter (my Mum, unequivocal legend and child-whisperer extraordinaire) was available to stay overnight, we decided to make a weekend of it and spent nearly 24 hours child-free in total. We drank champagne, we ate, we drank champagne, we danced, we drank champagne, we laughed, we drank champagne. We considered going to bed at 10pm just for the possibility of getting ten unbroken hours of precious sleep, but were having such a good time being grown-ups with our friends we just kept on going. We knew the kids were OK, as they were with Nan and we’d left her with detailed instructions for bedtime – we didn’t have a care in the world.
This morning: a ‘sleep-in’ until 7am (after which point neither of us is physically capable of sleeping anymore thanks to our permanently-adjusted body-clocks). A subdued bacon breakfast with sips of water and a strong coffee. And then the drive home, during which I for one completed the transition from ‘still a little tipsy, maybe’ to ‘yes, that’s definitely hungover now’. Nan’s report was that the children had been delightful and had slept 12 hours overnight without a peep. So we were optimistic that we’d be able to engage them in some quiet activities once we got home, and hopefully sneak in a nap around midday to aid in our recovery.
HA HA HA HA HA!
These are the sorts of activities a hungover parent would like their child to take an interest in for just one day:
- Dollies and dress-ups.
- Watching a movie.
- Reading quietly in own rooms.
These are the activities that my children were interested in today:
- Smackdown wrestling.
- Playing the harmonica.
- Playing the bongos.
- Playing the harmonica and bongos simultaneously while listening to the Beach Boys.
- Licking things. Not to taste them. Just to have licked them.
- Bouncing on the trampoline. But only if a parent bounces too.
- Relieving themselves of noxious gases in my vicinity without warning or apology.
- ‘Playing some vacuum-cleaner’.
- Eating playdough.
- Racing slot cars, having conned Nan into setting the forbidden racetrack up within seconds of our departure yesterday. Constant adult input required: prevent toddler from destroying track, fiddly repairs to track and cars, mediation in case of (frequent) disputes.
- Hurting themselves and each other. Crying.
Never have I more feverishly anticipated bedtime than today. I actually lied to my children about what time it was so I could put them down half an hour earlier than usual. I’m amazed that I had the presence of mind to a) think of doing that, and b) pull it off convincingly enough that they went along with it. Normally I’d be saying I could use a wine about now… but not today. It’s off to bed for me, with a reminder to my childless friends to appreciate your childless hangovers. Yes, even the hangovers are something I didn’t enjoy enough before I had kids, as it turns out. Fortunately the hangovers are few and far between these days. And they’ve still got nothing on morning sickness: a timely reminder for me that we’re definitely done having children. If anyone needs me, I’ll be hiding under my doona. Good night!