Confessions of a 30-something mother, no. 378

The husband and I had a rare night out last weekend. This was Big News. I don’t get out much these days… as the big 4-0 approaches, and motherhood exhausts me on a daily basis, the most raucous our nights get is watching Masterchef and drinking a cheeky glass of Merlot while firing witty quips at the TV. However, a friend was celebrating her birthday at a local hostelry and our attendance was required. Now, I was fully aware that I would be awakened, as usual, on Sunday morning by my second-born prodding my eyelid and saying, “can you fix my Transformer?” at 5.53am precisely. Thus, you may rest assured, I attended the friend’s festivities with a strong resolve not to drink to excess and to leave before 11pm.

Did this happen? No.

The reason this didn’t happen is largely because said friend had placed bottles upon bottles of wine out on the tables and effectively refused to let anyone buy their own drinks all night. Free alcohol! It would be rude not to! This has only happened to me a handful of times in my life and, I’m afraid to say, every time has proved to be a truly memorable evening – not always for the right reasons. This evening was no different.

Did I realise I’d had enough to drink when I couldn’t remember whether I’d been drinking red or white wine? I did not. Did I realise I’d had enough when I found myself dancing upon the tables and exhorting all my friends to do the same? I did not. Did I realise I’d had enough when a very large and somewhat sinister bouncer came over to tell me to desist instantly from dancing on said tables? I did not.

What makes this particularly difficult for me to understand is, I don’t do this sort of thing any more. I’m a grown-up. I’m nearly 40, for Chrissakes! Where was my steely resolve, the sensible head I have seen on friends on occasion and always admired? Is it precisely because I’m not often let out of me ‘ole that I went so crazy? The demon drink got to me and provoked me into behaving in a way I didn’t plan on, and definitely didn’t feel proud of the next day. It’s one thing dancing on tables when you’re 24 and running a bar in Greece, but it’s quite another thing to do it when you’re in your late 30s and starting to dance like your mother. Not A Good Look.

I should have known better. I’ve been drinking alcohol for more than 20 years, had my wild 20s, outgrew them, had kids, calmed down, started to behave myself. Why does it just take the promise of free alcohol to make me forget who I am and act like a prat? Why???

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