Saturday night I decided to be a grown up and what do grown ups like to do? DRINK.
Now I know we all saw Anna from the daily fail ripping into other ladies for their parenting choices. FOR SHAME ANNA FOR SHAME. However not what this blog post is about, Although Solidatea got me £3 worth of birds eye coupons because someone their end made a booboo with my daughters beloved fish fingers.
I shall no longer digress.
So on Saturday I wont lie, Adam and myself were NOT best friends, I was in a foul mood he was in a foul mood so I handled it in the way grown ups do. WINE. Now what I had planned for my evening was to have a glass and go to bed, I don’t really drink and have not actually been drunk since before I had Harper. It just so happened my friend had left her wine in our fridge and well it was going to waste. So as we all know one glass, turns into two, two turns into three and before you know it the bottle is gone, this normally happens over a course of an evening BUT NO NOT ME 55 MINUTES AND I WAS FUCKED. By fucked I don’t mean a little bit tipsy I mean absolutely fucking bollacked. The whole bottle was gone, I had my head in the toilet it was bad. However that was not the worst part. OH NO. I was a tit… I’m only going to tell you a few things of what happened though, some I’m hoping I can keep to the grave through shame… I woke the baby up because in my head I needed to tell her how much I loved her (BAD MUM BAD BAD MUM NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY) So once Adam had ushered me out of her room and got her back to sleep (see told you I was a dick head) I THEN proceeded to lay on the floor crying outside her room with my dog, telling her how much I loved everyone.. That’s all you’re getting here.
INCOMING HANGOVER DAY.
We all know how it feels waking up from an evening of drinking my favourite thoughts:
- WHY did I forget to put a glass of water next to my bed! 18 year old Kerry would of remembered.
- Why does my mouth taste like I’ve licked a sandy flip flop!?
- What time is it?! Have I slept through a whole day?
- Erghhh my head hurts, 18 year old Kerry would of also remembered pain killers by the bed.
- I wish I was 18 again I could handle this.
- WHY IS EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE BEING SO BLOODY LOUD
- Am I dying? Are you sure I’m not dying?
- WHAT DID I DO LAST NIGHT?
- oh no.. wait I remember I was a twat
- wheres my cooked breakfast?!
I had no cooked breakfast however we we’re going to my dads for a roast so it kind of made the lack of cooked breakfast acceptable, it was the last day of the season and having a Chelsea fan as a dad when Watford get their asses handed to them AGAIN is not as easy to take.
I learnt a very important thing though, Parenting with a hangover is HELL.
I think they just know when you’re tired and feeling shit (Yes it was self inflicted I am aware) but it’s their moment. To make as much noise as humanly possible and find the LOUDEST fucking toy. Those ones that you insist on buying them because it’s good for their development. NICE MOVE TOY COMPANIES. They are the ones that must be played with that day, usually for the amusement of the non hungover people around you to laugh at your pain.
When you’re curled up in a ball for 30 seconds trying to make the head ache just go away and they come over trying to be cute, like Mama come play, my inner monologue went something like this… “THERE ARE THREE OTHER PEOPLE IN THIS ROOM GO INTERACT WITH THEM YOU SEE ME ALL THE TIME.” Reminder I have already stated that I am a tit. I did feel awful because of course I wanted to be playing with her and all her toys and helping her development, but I was fragile. Then dinner time came by.. that roast I mentioned earlier, My step mums roast, probably the best roast every time it’s better and better than any restaurant! Harper normally loves it however I was vulnerable and she knew it! She suddenly decided the floor was hungry and in fact should have most of her roast, minus the Yorkshire pudding which she sat and ate like a bloody chipmunk.. (Note to self stop letting her watch Alvin and the chipmunks) She’s also in that stage where she refuses to eat off the spoon if an adult is holding it.. Ideal. So I turned into my mother, a sentence all parents will one time or another say normally followed by a thought of Oh Fuck. The next part of our evening went like this. ” Harper for the love of god if you DO NOT EAT YOUR DINNER you will go to bed” Why? why the fuck did I say this?! she’s nine months old, she doesn’t comprehend this nonsense coming out of my mouth and I think deep down she know I wasn’t/couldn’t carry it through. We were at my dads for one.
After that she got tired, we went home and she went to bed, Adam went to football meaning I could curl up in a ball feeling sorry for myself with a cup of tea.
Never drinking again & I owe my friend a bottle of wine.
Said Roast! x