13 Stages of a Mummy’s Night Out
Don’t be fooled by the pictures you see on Facebook. Those mums all dressed up and looking ready to party. Those pictures are staged. What lies behind the lens is a whole other story entirely. Do you want to know what a real ‘Mummy’s Night Out’ looks like? Brace yourself.
Stage One: The Invitation
Oh the excitement! I’ve been asked out! It’s like being back at school again when the popular kids invite you to the coolest party in town. The bubbles in my tummy rise. ‘Really? Me? Out without the kids! HELL YEAH!’.
Stage Two: The Realisation
Oh S**t! that means I have to find something to wear. Something that fits, that is flexible (not tight around the mummy tummy in other words!) and comfortable. Sexy but not slutty. Fun but not trampy. Oh and of course it has to have no baby sick or baby milk stains. That basically narrows me down to… oh… that pair of skinny jeans I last wore before I was pregnant and that silky top I never wear for fear of it getting sick on it, or paint, or food… or even just baby snot! Okay. So outfit sorted. Skinny Jeans and Top. And of course those high heels that, wait a minute… I swear they were not this high the last time I wore them!
Stage Three: The Doubt
Should I really go out? God, tomorrow is Saturday. I have the food shopping to do and the MIL is coming to visit – I can’t get drunk and have a hangover. Maybe I should just stay home. I can say the baby is sick!
Stage Four: Resolute!
Hell no! It has been months since I have had a blow out! I deserve a night out. I just won’t drink too much… A couple of glasses of wine won’t kill me. No cocktails. Or Shots. No, definitely no shots!
Stage Five: Preparation
Hooray for Skinny Jeans. At least that means I don’t have to shave my legs! Quick, get in the shower before the kids notice.
“No sweetie, mummy needs a shower. No darling, you can’t have a shower with me. Mummy is going out… No it’s okay baby, you will be in bed. Yes darling, of course I will come home. I won’t be late.”
Stage Six: The second shower
“God damn it. Now I need to get back in the shower… because the mini demon was throwing such a tantrum I forgot to wash the conditioner out of my hair. “Darling, can you please feed the kids while I get ready? Yes, the dinner is in the fridge. Yes, it is. I prepped it earlier. Oh fine, forget it. I’ll do it myself!”
Stage Seven: Make Up Lesson
“No darling, don’t touch that. It’s mummy’s special make up. No sweetie, don’t touch.” Why the hell do I waste my breath. That’s another foundation all over my nice new rug! I need a bloody drink! “Darling, can you come get the kids so I can get ready” Why won’t these kids give me five minutes to myself! “Sweetie, please go down and see daddy. Mummy is busy. Yep, okay. You sit there and stare at me while I attempt not to make myself look like a bad version of a drag queen.”
Stage Eight: Running Late
“Sweetie, please go to bed. Mummy really needs to leave. Please darling. Go to bed and go to sleep. No darling. Daddy can read you a story tonight. Oh okay. Fine. Just one book okay.”
Stage Nine: Apologies
“I am so sorry I’m late. The kids wouldn’t go to bed, then as I was leaving I realised one of them had hid my other shoe. Took me half an hour before I realised it was in bed with her. Sorry. God I am knackered already. Maybe a glass of wine will wake me up.”
Stage Ten: Paranoia and Selfies
I’ll just check the kids are okay. Nope, apparently the world falls apart without me. They woke up and shouted for me. I am sure they are fine. He can handle it. He is their dad for God’s sake. “Get me another glass of wine! Wait, let’s take a selfie… everyone say cheese! Oooohhhhh… Shots!!! Bring on the Tequila! One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila… floor!”
Stage Eleven: It’s what time?
Eleven o’clock. Really? Is that all? I’m drunk! Yep. I’m drunk. Where is my phone? In my hand! Yes, I am drunk. What a bloody lightweight. “I love you guys. So much. I’m off home to see my sexy husband. Byeeeeeee?” Taxi!
Stage Twelve: I’m not drunk
Drunk? No darling. No I had one glass of wine. No I’m not drunk at all. Oh this… um.. it’s cold pizza. From the fridge. I was just peckish. No darling, go back to sleep. Tequila? No. I never touch the stuff!
Stage Thirteen: Oh God. Never Again
“Please darling, can you switch the TV down just a little. Yes, of course you can have some more juice. Go grab the carton and bring it here and I will pour it. Yes, mummy is okay. Just a headache, sweetie.” Oh lord – when did I get so old? I was home before midnight for God’s sake.
That, ladies and gents, is what it is like when you are a mum and you plan a night out.