So, last Saturday was our much-anticipated first night of freedom since Pixie disrupted life as we knew it. And as I wrote about on Friday, we were super excited to enjoy some long-overdue quality adult time.
It was the perfect opportunity to go crazy wild and dance until dawn! Or, you know, go modest with dinner. Haha! Give me some credit, we’re not that pathetic quite yet – we saw a movie too! Rock and roll, baby… Rock. And. Roll.
Naturally, we indulged in being temporarily free from the constraints of responsibility. Here’s a synopsis of our evening:
- Drove Pixie over to Nanny’s house. Hubby and I kept giving each other sidelong glances during the car journey (we were pretty excited, and a little apprehensive).
- Took Pixie upstairs to become acquainted with her ‘bedroom’, and so we could settle her in.
- Gasped in panicked horror when I realised I’d not packed Pixie’s favourite bedtime beaker.
Breathed a sigh of relief when hubby saved the day by confirming he had…
- Felt like a complete failure as a mother when my mum asked me if I’d packed any books for Pixie… My intention had been to keep her routine as similar to normal as possible – which was now not an option. At this point I was praying that novelty would win over routine. Eek!
- Felt like a failure as a daughter when my mother mentioned her surprise that I’d not written a list a week in advance to ensure I didn’t forget anything.
- Felt like a failure as a human being when I remembered I’d also not packed any Sudocrem. (My daughter does not need Sudocrem – she merely has a bit of an obsession with all creams; thus Sudocrem – for her non-existent nappy rash – is yet another vital part of her bedtime routine. I’m not sure whether it would have been worse to deprive her of a physical requirement for its magical properties – or if the mental anguish I was inflicting trumped it. Either way, I was a monster.)
- Showered Pixie in kisses to make up for being such a terrible mummy.
- Covered Pixie in more kisses as the guilt threatened to engulf me entirely.
Told Pixie I loved her too many times to pull off the casual exit we’d planned; at which point hubby intervened, sharply whispering something about ‘like a plaster’.
- We set off and I immediately felt a calm wash over me – we were free!
- Nearly had a row with hubby because I (stupidly) thought it might be a good time to mention that if all went well, this could be on the cards every week the night before my work day. #badmove
Got home and decided that as we had a couple of hours before we needed to go out, it was the perfect opportunity to pamper myself. Taking full advantage of the peace and quiet, I dusted and hoovered the house top to bottom. It was so relaxing, I just felt so centred afterwards!
- I took my time getting ready and luxuriated in not having an extra body and limbs vying to undo the good work I was attempting to craft upwards of my neck. Unfortunately there was no wine in the house (a prerequisite to getting ready, no?) – but don’t worry, I totally intended to make up for that later.
- Dinner was fabulous. Everything was lovely and perfect, and I was completely serene (despite time marching on and no text having arrived to let me know Pixie was sleeping). My phone was even a whole arm’s length away from me – I was bossing nonchalance.
- Approximately 43 minutes later than ideally scheduled, my phone pinged to confirm Pixie was asleep. Feigning indifference, I quickly fired off a message to make sure all was well.
- All was not well.
I cried. In a restaurant.
It transpired that Pixie was completely fine by the time my mum contacted me – after an hour of crying for me, she’d finally sobbed herself to sleep. I was distraught: my baby needed me and I wasn’t there. Because I was on a frivolous date. Incidentally, that was when I discovered the true feeling of being a terrible mummy.
And so, if you’re wondering whether this joyous post has a purpose, I have a take home message for you (of course!):
You may, on occasion, be temporarily free from the constraints of responsibility. But – make no mistake – you are never free of parenthood.
Also, if you’re feeling exasperated with an overzealous toddler, offload them for just 24 hours and I can assure you when they’re returned to you your patience will be boundless. (I wonder whether this phenomenon can be applied to all relationships? Next time my hubby threatens to leave for a week in ‘jest’, I may just shoo him on his way. I’ll let you know the result.)
Ps. The irony of our car ‘chat’ is not lost on me; and no, it will not be happening anytime soon.
How was your first night sans baby? Was it more successful than ours?