There’s a mum on the loose

A couple of weekends ago I went on a friend’s hen do up in London. You know the drill – lovely plans with a brilliant gaggle of girls and tonnes of fun.

It was a really great day. (And not just because my wonderful Dad picked up the toddler at 9am and I had the expanse of an entire child-free day and night to enjoy, which was obviously a highlight.)

A little too great, perhaps.

It was billed as a civilised lunch. I had every intention of having a few drinks and catching the train home early evening.

On the day though, I sort of just forgot about all that and got caught up in the tacky excitement of drinking obscene amounts of fizz through willy straws. Not so civilised…

I got absorbed in great conversations with girls I don’t see that often. I loved every minute of being sat by the Thames with a few of my favourite people and not having to be on bogey removal duty or breaking up fights over the red crayon.

That day, I needed some assistance in finding the off-switch. And by the time I realised that, I was a few hours past the point of no return and vomming into a plant while waiting for an Uber. Classy, Urs.

I’m reliably informed by countless other mums that we’ve all done it.

But the horrific two-day hangover and the inevitable accompanying fear and loathing were the least of my problems.

I felt embarrassed and as though I needed to apologise to everyone who’d been there. I felt that to get myself in such a state (although it had been completely accidental, obvs) was completely reckless and stupid. The guilt was crushing.

I know I deserve to have fun and that letting go occasionally is a good thing for everyone in my family. I know I’ll look back on that day and I’ll probably forget the point at which the wheels came flying off and remember how great it felt to laugh so much and to celebrate with my gorgeous friends.

The toddler didn’t suffer because of my idiocy. He spent over 24 hours adoring and being adored by his awesome Grandad, going on train rides, dragging him to soft play and conning him into buying Twirlywoos books and popcorn. He was quite literally living the toddler dream.

My logical brain realises that it did no-one any harm when I spent a day as a mum on the loose. That said, I’m still annoyed at myself. In fact it did me more good than I realise, I think. The ripple effects of me having fun are far-reaching and the benefits of me feeling refreshed are massive to everyone in my family. It SO shouldn’t be something we feel guilty about.

I just need to work on locating that off-switch.

P.s. To the girls in the photo with me at the top of this post…I am truly sorry but this was absolutely crucial to demonstrate its point. 😉