Last weekend Husband, Baby Boo and I went to a wedding oop North. As I have mentioned before, the baby is a Grade A bottle-refuser so I haven’t been able to drink alcohol or spend more than a couple of hours away from her since she was born.
Over the past month or so, we have started weaning her on to solids and we realised that moving from breast to bottle wasn’t on Baby Boo’s agenda and a cup was more to her majesty’s liking (Blog post on this is on it’s way!).
With this mega-breakthrough, we could finally take our families up on their very kind offers to babysit for the night. The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of one of our university friend’s wedding. I was planning on taking the baby all day and then coming home early but now we could take her through the day, feed as normal and then my wonderful sister would come and pick her up at 6pm and have her overnight. What an absolute BELTER.
Anyway…all went as planned. Happy, content baby was picked up by her lovely auntie and we grabbed the chance to get our drink-on with both hands and ran with it. If I’m honest, I was so preoccupied, stressing about leaving the baby, it didn’t cross my mind that I hadn’t really drunk alcohol for 14 months and that I should probably take it easy. Needless to say, I didn’t take it easy. I drank ALL the drinks.
The evening was fantastic. It’s all a bit of a blur of Prosecco, Queen and dancing on tables. I eventually was dragged to bed at 2am. Apparently. I have no idea what time we went to bed. Or where my shoes ended up.
Here is how the hangover went down…
Wake up in a blind panic. FUCK, WHERE’S THE BABY. Remember that my sister has her and climb down from the ceiling. I feel as rough as a badgers and my tongue feels like it has grown fur. Brush teeth and drink water from the tap for 10minutes. Realise it’s 6am, we are baby free and we deserve a lie in. Go back to bed.
Wake up again…FUCK, WHERE’S THE BABY. (Note: If you suffer from alcohol anxiety (or ‘The Dreads’ as I know them) expect it 100-fold when you are a parent. Not only do you have to look after yourself you also have to look after a tiny human too). This time the anxiety is too much so I get up and crawl to the shower. Make it into the bathroom just in time. Who the hell thought Aftershock was a good idea *shudder*. Brush teeth again as the fur has grown back. Lie on the bed unable to move.
Get dressed and stagger down the corridor to reception. The guilt is properly kicking in now and I start to seriously miss the baby. Miss her so much I could cry. In fact, I am now crying in the reception of a Travelodge in Bolton because I miss my baby and I feel like someone has stuffed me inside a sock and swung me round. Bad times.
Husband drives us back to my sisters. We’re both hanging but he was nowhere near as drunk as me last night. One of us had to be the ‘responsible adult’ and he’s had a few nights out since she was born so it was my turn to go wild last night. And that I did.
Get to my sisters house rush to see the baby. Expect her to be excited to see me but she’s seems perfectly happy sitting in the garden with her cousins. She knows we abandoned her and she wants us to know she knows. Guilt rating 10/10. Well played baby. Well played.
We decide to stay for a bit longer in the hope that my sister and her husband will take pity on us and continue to help us out. It takes a village and all that jazz.
I offer the baby a feed in the hope she’ll forgive me and love me again. It works. I give her a feed, I put her in her sleepyhead next to me and we both fall fast asleep…or so I thought. Five minutes later, I am awoken with a sharp poke in the eye. Baby is awake and so am I now. No sleep for hungover mamas.
What seemed to be a great idea ended up being a rookie mistake.Three under five year olds and a hangover do not mix and now full blown hangover anxiety has now kicked in. I am dreading the car journey home. The next few hours slowly tick by. I spend them praying for the day to be over, carb-loading and watching ‘In The Night Garden’ on a loop.
Finally psych up the courage to drive home. 30minutes into the journey the baby picks this moment to have have a full blown meltdown. Don’t know what hell feels like but pretty sure it’s not far off a 3hr car journey with the mother of all hangovers and a screaming baby. Pull over at the nearest motorway service station and manage to calm her down. As soon as she is put back in her car seat she loses her shit again. Quite literally.
We get home. I feed, bath and put the baby to bed. I crawl to bed and curl up into a ball. I’ve sucessfully managed to swerve all social media today and therefore haven’t seen any reminders of my behaviour last night that might tip me over the edge. Ignorance is bliss. NEVER.EVER.AGAIN