I love wine.
I’ve always had a wonderful relationship with wine, but after having Vida, I discovered it has a new and wonderful power. It has the ability to magically turn off my mummy switch!
I would love to say it also turns on my sexy, funny, interesting switch, but that would be a lie, as Saturday night would attest.
It’s not often us girlies get a chance to get together to drink, gossip, laugh and dance. We have been known to get a bit over excited at the prospect, peak too soon, and end up in bed by ten, but this time we were determined to make it out for the duration, I just wish someone had told me the duration meant 4am, ouch!
Being a very sensible group of ladies, we thought it wise to have a bite to eat first to line our stomachs and have a good old gossip. We cackled and squealed and drank and drank. If you were in Prezzo on Saturday night and heard a table shouting about a variety of birthing stories, post breastfeeding boob structure and what happened on One Born Every Minute, I apologise now. At one point the waitress nearly jumped out of her skin as I jumped up brandishing an empty bottle of wine and screeched that we’d be needing another one pronto.
Meal finished, we hobbled to our next destination. Of course, we were only hobbling on account of our excessively high heels not the wine, we’d eaten you’d see, so we couldn’t get drunk, we are so clever!
I think I was making up for all the nights I’d not been out and opted for the most insanely high heels (I would take a picture to show you, but I seem to have misplaced them, I think they may be in the garden maybe?) We were all clearly somewhat out of heel practice and there were a few war wounds (but nothing a kids ikea plaster can’t temporarily fix, only mummies come this prepared!)
Shots were ordered (when is this ever a good idea? They taste rank and are £4 a pop for the pleasure!), more wine consumed, more cackling and probably a lot more hobbling, then it was time to get our boogie on. We lost one in the chaos of taxis, the lure of bed and thought of a 6am wake-up by her two kids, proved to be too much. She put up a noble attempt, very nearly taking on the role of lead singer for the band and retiring at a very commendable 12 o’clock.
After a bit of a tussle with the doormen (no we cannot queue, we haven’t been out for ages and we need to get some more shots – not the most convincing of arguments!) we made it to our next stop, more drinks, a bit more dancing and lots more hobbling. This is where we lost number two, tired and bleary, she hung up her dancing shoes at a very reasonable 1am.
At this point we were 3 remaining and onto a night club we went, more shots, more dancing, lots of hugging long lost friends. By 2am, we were down to two and my stamina was wavering, I made it to bed by 4am, with a few lost hours in between!
I woke up 3 hours later and took a moment to survey the damage, do I have my phone, check, do I have my cards, check, how many receipts have I got in my purse, too many, check. I’d left a path of destruction from the front door right through the hall and to the kitchen, where I must have culminated my removal of clothing and accessories with my fake eyelashes on the chopping board.
Thankfully, Hubby took the childcare reigns and looked after Little Miss all morning whilst I quietly festered in self pity and alcohol sweats. How on earth did I use to do this every weekend? My feet were killing, my head was banging, my mouth was dry and I’m sure I smelt a bit dodgy, and I had an infant to try and care for! The best thing is she didn’t care what mummy looked like, I still got all my usual cuddles and smiles and that made the horrendous hangover just about bearable!
Suffice to say, recipes tried and tested this weekend = zero!