Moms and hangovers do not mix.
There I said it. It’s the worst idea in the bloody world and I will tell you why..
Before you are a parent hangovers suck a little. You wake up and the rooms spins and you vom a bit. You spend the day chilling in your PJs, sipping water and feeling generally a bit sorry for yourself but that’s about it. You muster the energy around midday to move yourself and either go to the café and eat a fat fry up or drag your ass to Maccies and demolish a 20 nugget box like it’s the only thing that will save your pitiful sorry soul. Overall, it isn’t that bad. But man, being in charge of a small human shaped thing when you are in that state is vile.
The night before you promise yourself it isn’t going to happen. You have been hungover with a child before and you do not want to repeat that. You tell yourself you are going to take it easy, you won’t mix your drinks, will drink plenty of water and will come home at a respectful time. You are an adult now, a mother in fact and so you will not make stupid decisions.
You make stupid decisions.
The next morning you wake up and instantly realise you have made a terrible mistake. The room will not stay still, everything hurts and your throat is horrifically dry. You instantly hate the person you were the night before and your brain handily reminds you that this sucked last time and will suck again. You gather yourself when suddenly, smack! The small human jumps on top of you and you feel the force of your internal organs trying to escape your body. You try not to let on to the child that you are about to die and drag yourself out the bed and down the stairs so that you can vomit.
Small human stands at the door and asks if you are ok and you go with the ‘mommy’s poorly’ line. Manthing is nowhere to be seen and you assume the bugger has gone to work. Feck. You are going to have to parents alone.
You place your darling child in front of the TV and throw food in their general direction. Yes you can have jaffa cakes for breakfast, whatever. You take as many pills as you can that isn’t an over dose and think that once you have water and a cracker you will be okay.
You will not be.
After what feels like a millennia you realise you need back up. You dress the small human and call the only people who can help. Parents.
You cry on the phone that you are dying and need help and then drive (with all the windows open because you will be sick) to their house. You allow them to berate you whilst you hand over the responsibility of your child to them and proceed to lay on the sofa and sleep.
If your parents are awesome like mine they will let you sleep and look after the human. When you wake up you may even be presented with a Sunday dinner and minimal pisstaking on their behalf.
To be honest with you I did learn my lesson and have never been in this kind of a state again. Though I am sure my time will come and I just hope the ‘rents are feeling kind enough to take pity on my soul once more!
Until next time ..