Parenting with a hangover

January 17, 2016


On Friday night I had three hours of sleep. Not because the sprog was teething and I spent the night shovelling Calpol and camomile powder down her neck, but because I went out with a pal and had so many cocktails I thought I was 25 (and forgot there would be baby-related consequences).

Dinner turned to drinks, which turned to getting lost in a taxi and walking over a bridge to get to a club where they played rock in one room and 90s dance music in the other, and I thought shots were a BRILLIANT IDEA.

I got home at 3.45am, washed my face, clattered around, resisted the urge to make a ketchup sandwich, sent an ill-advised tweet, and told my husband I loved him, which sounds romantic, but went like this:

Me: Hiiiiiiiii!

Him: Is it really 4am?

Me: Yes, but it’s fine – I had SO MUCH FUN. But I’m so happy I’m married.

Him: Okay, good.

Me: I love you.

Him: Love you too. Night night.

Me: No, I really really love you. I love you!

Him: Yes, okay. Night night.

Me: I love you SO much!!!

Him: (pats me on head)

Me: I really do! The single men in Dubai are awful! I’m so lucky! I love you! Give me a kiss?

Him: Good grief. Drink some water.

Fast forward to 7am. Husband goes out to walk the dogs. I’m left to zig-zag into the kitchen to make a bottle up and wake the child. It’s all a bit foggy, but I think we just hung out in her play area (padded flooring and cushions – essential) watching Matthew Perry and Zac Ephron in 17 Again (crap film – bonus) and eating toast.

Thankfully this hangover wasn’t a total shocker, and I put it down to three things:

1.       Anti-sickness tablets (Motilium is your friend).

2.       Advil Liqui-Gels.

3.       Shake Shack. I’m not proud.

Was I expecting sympathy? No. Did I get it? Absolutely not. I was reminded repeatedly (and in public) of the above conversation, was poked to make me walk faster and told numerous times that I was being slow-witted. To be fair, I was.

We had a friend’s little boy’s first birthday party that afternoon, which sounds like hell with a hangover, but was actually spot on because a) there weren’t many children there b) there was pizza c) we were home by 6pm – and I was in bed by 8pm.

Here’s an idea: a hangover hotel. With childcare. And snacks. Parents can outsource the little ones for a few hours/a day and kick back in fresh sheets with movies on demand and room service. And maybe doctors are on hand with medication and IV fluids. And a psychologist is available to tell you that you didn’t behave like a total wally and your friends still like you, to help get over the booze blues.

It’s day two now, and I’m still feeling tired and emotionally delicate. I just want people to be nice to me and supply sweet potato fries. And be reassured that I wasn’t a wally.

One response to “Parenting with a hangover”

  1. It’s called the Jumeirah Beach Hotel circa 1999. God bless them.

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