I’m asking. Anyone?
Well this Tuesday I did. Unexpectedly. And rather fantastically. With a bunch of reliably fantastic girls.
I’m not sure why we thought it was a good idea to drink until 2.00 AM on a school night. Because we all had responsibilities the next day. Some of the working variety. Others of the mothering variety. Actually, it was probably because of those responsibilities that we were drinking in the first place.
I only know that at midnight when two of the girls left, the rest of us looked at them in shock like they were cutting the night short. ‘But it’s only midnight? Why are you leaving?’ You know, that sort of non-sensical outrage that only happens when you’re drunk. Completely.
We danced to Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. On repeat. Good girls that we are. We managed to marinate an iPhone. I think there was a bit of bra swapping though the memory’s hazy on that one. And in between all this craziness we debated all sorts of wrong topics like the right way to explain ‘semen’ to a child who has asked what it is. All in firm agreement that you opt for the ‘seaman’ definition for that one. A sailor. Wish I’d thought of that before.
The next morning I was so hungover that Blurred Lines was all I could see. So much so that I barely noticed Beaver trotting off to nursery in hot pants, looking not unlike Kylie Minogue. If she’d done a rendition of Spinning Around I probably wouldn’t have been that surprised. I was just too hungover to care.
‘Beaver!’ I hollered after her. ‘You haven’t got any trousers on!’
‘I’ve got shorts on Mummy, don’t worry,’ she said oiking her top up to reveal the teeny, tiny shorts that will now forever be known as hot pants.
I was actually pleased to be going to work. Even with a hangover. Ironic. Because a hangover at work is more bearable than looking after two children, that I am convinced of. Especially one who’s wearing hot pants. I rested my eyelids on the train wondering if I smelt of booze. At work, I drank tea and lots of it. I had a bacon sandwich. And I realised that I have not been hungover at work for an eternity.
It wasn’t uncommon before kids, was it? You’d march in and actually announce your hangover. ‘Ugh, I’m so hungover. Got in at 3.00 AM. Blah blah blah. Puke.’
Now I just wanted to keep my head down and blend in. A part-time working mother of two drunk on a Tuesday. It’s just not cool, is it?
Except that it kind of was.
Cool to disregard all the burdens of being a grown-up for one night and pretend that you can stay up regardless of all that awaits you the next morning. Early.
And even cooler to have great friends who will do it with you.
DO YOU GET DRUNK ON A TUESDAY? SHARE A COMMENT BELOW.
Surviving Motherhood Tip#5 – how to help a hangover
- Don’t drink. Ever. Because hangovers are hell no matter what you do. And they get worse the older you get.