Why the mummy hangover is the worst hangover in the world
It’s three o’clock in the morning and a man whispers into your ear the most erotic phrase known to a mum:
“You promised you’d get up with them.“
What? What the F… Where am I? What is that noise? Is that a recorder? and….and… a tambourine? Who gave them those? I will find them and I will kill them. Why can I taste gherkins? and salt? What day is it? Is that a tattoo… Percy & Thomas BFF? Whose shoes are those? When did you get a fillet of fish? Why don’t we have painkillers in this house?
What’s that smell? Oh…the…indignity!
I don’t get out much. I think I can count on my hands how many times I have been ‘out’ since becoming a mum. My social life basically now revolves around Line of Duty and drinking wine at home in my pyjamas. A Saturday night is when you’ll most likely see me opening up the Just Eat app and perhaps, tackling a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of a nice harbour or steam engine. I generally go to bed at eight thirty unless Love Island is on.
So when I get to go out I am more than a little giddy. In fact – I am ecstatic. I am ruddy thrilled. I’m like a toddler at toast time. And that is before I start drinking.
The mummy hangover is like a regular hangover but times 8000. Why? Well.
- You were already drunk before you went out – drunk on the idea of a night off from the kids, drunk on freedom, drunk on getting dressed up, drunk on life!
- You are too excited. People will find you strange. Stranger than usual. You’re like a small Shitzu humping the legs of any adults there because you can talk about things other than superworm and Thomas the shunting engine.
- You will be overly generous with your money and buy drinks for everyone there, strangers even because you “never go out! The drinks are on me! I love you all” even though you basically live on tax credits and selling old coats on ebay.
- you’ll want to drink all the drinks. No more cold tea for me but oooh. Look at the choice. I’ll have to have all the drinks because I only go out once a year. So let me just taste all the cocktails on the menu.
- Before you leave you’ll tell your other half that you’re so grateful to be able to go out and leave the kids with him that “you’ll get up with them in the morning.”
- Typical hangover cures are off limits to you. Full English breakfast? Nope. Hot shower? Nope. All you’ve got is Balamory, cold coffee and a three hour aimless search for painkillers in a house where all you can find is junior calpol and antacids.
- Noise, so much noise. Noise. Too much noise.
- Bed? No you can’t go back to bed.
- My head. My head.
- I usually go to bed at eight o’clock. You will never ever ever get back those hours of sleep you missed.
So there you have it.
On an unrelated note. I went to see Absolutely Fabulous last weekend in a cinema that served alcohol. I can’t remember much of the film but I can tell you that I woke up in my bra, I had seemingly bought every meal that Macdonalds make on the way home and had an Uber bill for close to £40.
My husband informs me that I woke him up on my arrival home as I couldn’t figure out how to shut the door and was just slamming it continually against the frame.