Oh my god. I am failing at being a human right now.
This all started when The Bearded One asked me if I wanted to share a beer with him. He had driven to Manchester and back yesterday, the kids were out shopping with their Nan and I was on Baby Duty. As Head of the Party Planning Committee (of which I am the only member) I was also on “decorate the house” duty. This involved nearly wetting myself trying to blow up balloons. Another joyful reminder that your body isn’t what it used to be post birth!
By the time we had collected the kids, opened presents, eaten the mammoth amount of party food, bathed the baby, put the kids to bed and bathed ourselves it was nearly 10pm.
What we hadn’t realised was quite how much alcohol we had consumed throughout this.
As I said it started with a beer when we got home. An ice cold, delicious, thirst quenching beer. Shooting each other a look as we finished our glass, The Bearded One has keys in hand and is out the door to replenish stock.
A bottle of chateauneuf-de-pape, a gorgeous bottle of Rioja and one bottle of pink fizz later he has returned. There is a reason for those purchases but frankly I’m too hungover at this point to explain.
A glass of wine during party food, another glass of wine during bath time, you get the gist.
By the time we sit down at 9.45pm we’re both in a really good place and loving life. This is usually the point where I conk out but I had a coffee at 5pm and I’m firing on all cylinders.
Pre pregnancy The Bearded One and I would sit up to the small hours putting the world to rights. Or to the outsider… waffling utter shit! One of the hardest adjustments for me post pregnancy was not being able to do that. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I physically couldn’t keep my eyes open.
Anyone that’s had a baby will tell you it can be a really lonely experience. This doesn’t last forever so please don’t be put off, it does get better! So whenever I get the chance to have a splash of “normality” with The Bearded One I take it. As I said this usually involves me finally sitting down, having half a glass of wine and falling asleep 15 minutes into a film.
Last night however I was awake, I had a window and by god I taking it!
We laughed, clinked our glasses, chatted about business ideas, mocked people on tv before slowly wandering into waffle land. It was wonderful! We even managed not to talk about the kids for longer than 10 minutes. I did get the photos of The Baby out and start saying “look what we made”. I can’t help that. I do it when I’m sober.
By midnight I could feel my eyes begin to cross, after high fiving The Bearded One at my late night I climb into bed and fall asleep immediately only be woken up by my husband clambering around.
I ask him if he remembered to do the bottle before coming up. He didn’t. I said it was fine, I would do it when I got up. I must have been pissed to say that! With a kiss goodnight which was more like a head butt we fall asleep.
4.09am. The Baby is waking up looking for his Bastard Dummy. Jesus my head hurts. Ok, I remember moving it before bed, where the fuck did I move it to? Too dark to see. The Baby is kicking off but still asleep. God where is it??? Oh crap he’s waking up, no no no no no!! With that I shove my finger in his mouth and he immediately settles.
Well done, you’ve fucked yourself now. You can’t play twister let alone manoeuvre out of this. I am severely left handed. So much so that I’m convinced my right hand is there for aesthetic purposes only. Not even for balance!
The Baby is chomping away on my finger whilst my pointless right hand is flailing around knocking everything over trying to find the Bastard Dummy. Located! Finger out, Bastard Dummy in.
Lay back down to sleep. 4.22am The Baby is awake. Start all over, minus finger Dummy.
By 4.58am I give up and get him into bed with me. 5.36am and he is still kicking the shit out of me BUT he’s asleep. That’s all that matters right? By 6.32am he is fully awake. I managed to get another 20 minutes of sleep.
I have decided it’s those 20 minutes that have ruined me. My body decided those 20 minutes would be the deepest sleep known to man therefore waking up would actually be a resuscitation. HORRENDOUS.
I can barely open my eyes, my shoulder and neck are stiff from holding the chunk that is my son, my mouth feels like I’ve licked gravel and my head is throbbing.
Why? Why did I ever drink? Why did I think it was a good idea? It’s not like I don’t know about the 4am witching hour! It’s not like I’m not aware of what the day will hold and how much energy is needed.
The Baby is in a beautiful mood and smiling away. I’m relieved because I thought my appearance might terrify him. Inexplicable hair, yesterday’s makeup smeared across my face etc.
Having changed him I remember we haven’t prepared a bottle. God why???? I KNOW how hungry he is in the morning. I KNOW how hard it is when he’s screaming for his bottle.
I rush downstairs blinding myself with bright lights and walk into a kitchen full of shit. We didn’t keep the door shut last night so The Dog didn’t bother to let us know he needed to go out. Bastard.
I look around the kitchen at the sea of mess from the night before, as I’m waiting for the water in the kettle to cool I clean up The Dogs mess whilst keeping an eye on The Baby in the rocker. Suddenly The Oldest One is standing in the doorway complaining about a headache. You and me both sister!
Remembering the girls are off to a gymnastics club today I shove the bottle in the freezer to speed up the cooling process and getting everything ready.
We didn’t make their packed lunches.
We didn’t lay out their breakfast things.
Did I sterilise the bottles at least?? Yes! Thank fuck.
Making tuna sandwiches and scooping out dog food into a bowl is not what you want to be doing with a hangover.
I can barely unload the dishwasher because every time I bend down I fear my brain might slide out my nose. Having made a coffee I take it upstairs to wake The Bearded One up. He’s on driving duty. He’s feeling just as rough as me thank god!
Lunches made, breakfast (coco pops) served, trainers and ballet shoes located and they’re off.
I’ve fed The Baby and shoved 2 slices of toast down my throat followed by a jammy dodger and the dregs of some banana milk. We head upstairs to bed. My original plan was to keep him awake until his next feed so he slept longer later. I just didn’t have the energy to fight him so I decide to let him sleep.
Having tried to put on his new nappy 3 or 4 times now, I realise it’s on backwards. Rectifying it I’m now just staring at it hoping it will magically finish itself as he giggles and coos. Change complete and I notice I’ve filled his crib with the contents of the change bag. There’s literally no where for him to sleep so I keep him in bed with me. At this point tidying up his crib seems like too much effort.
As he’s falling asleep I scan the room. It looks like a squat. 2 washing baskets full of clothes needing to be put away, a crib full of baby paraphernalia, yesterday’s outfit and Baby’s still wet towel on the floor. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. Pulling the covers up to my chin I pretend I can’t see it. Out of sight out of mind.
As The Baby sleeps soundly, I lay in bed staring into space, vowing not to drink again until The Baby is old enough to drink himself.
Baby hangovers are the fucking worst and I’m never feeling this way again!
Mind you… it is Friday tomorrow and my new hair might want to go out and show itself off.