THE night out

This momentous occasion absolutely completely should be blogged about.  So much so, I am staying up late especially.  I never realised how much of a BIG DEAL it is to go out with friends for the first time as a mum. We have been talking about this for weeks, no months actually..Babysitters booked we were all anticipating a night of wine and freedom.

Who can still fit in their pre-pregnancy jeans -nobody, or if there is they darent admit it, inverse prejudice in this situation. Is a maxi dress a bit OTT for the pub?  Why do all clothes look weird with a maternity bra underneath?  Gone are the days of a lazy get ready with a glass of lukewarm alcohol, powerballads blaring singing into a hairbrush.  Hello chipped nail varnish, slap literally “slapped on”, creeping around the bedroom and finding yourself holed up in the airing cupboard with your straighteners as the plug sockets are otherwise occupied by a fan and baby monitor.  Gone are the days when you could head out “anytime from 6.30” to hello that precious two hours after bath and story before the wake up for a feed.  Frantic whatsaps – “are you ready?” “I’m ready!” “Code brown here” “triple boobed him and he’s STILL not asleep, it’s like he’s knows!”

In the pre-baby days, those ones where you could go on a carefree night out and fit into clothes from topshop, I remember thinking I wonder why those women are all wearing black sparkly tops.  Well now I know that black is SLIMMING and sparkle helps detract from love handles and spaniels ears.

Obviously, the conversation wasn’t ground breaking, after all we haven’t been out for 5 months!But after a quick check of the phone to make sure all is well on the western front, we seemed to settle into the groove, and baby sleep or lack thereof, birth trauma and imminent arrivals were the inevitable topics of discussion.

With the idea of leaving on a high and not alienating the babysitters, I ordered myself a taxi. I don’t remember the last time I required the services of a taxi.  Instead of coming home and making myself a fried egg sandwich, I ate a scone and prepared a bottle of expressed breast milk.  I realised times have changed, but these times are great and it’s time to embrace them.


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