I woke up yesterday with sleep creases on my face. At first I didn’t recognise them and thought that something was wrong with me. But as I peered a little longer into the mirror I began to recognise the signs of a good night’s sleep.
Saturday night was our first child-free night in over six months and Leo’s first sleepover. We’d had a busy day and as usual were racing from activity to activity. Julian had already gone over to Mum and Dad’s but I wanted to keep Leo with me for as long as I could. As I packed his gear I was a little sad but super-excited. He was asleep when we dropped him off and I had my fingers crossed that he’d be good for Mum and Dad that night.
We had an hour to get ready for the ball we were going to and, as most mother’s know, that is a total luxury. I’d been pregnant at this ball every year for the last couple and was looking forward to being able to drink and have a dance, without spending the night bone-tired and dying to go home.
Once I got to the ball though, I hesitated. I had a champagne and nursed it for over an hour. Was I really going to sacrifice the possibility of a good sleep for some more glasses of wine and a good time? I was torn. Alcohol is notorious for not letting me sleep. I wake up dry-mouthed, anxious, with a headache and sometimes get a bit of insomnia.
I was careful. I was envious of the carefree nature of everyone on the dance floor, as I bopped around self-conscious and aware…but…I patted myself on the back as I sat, sober, on the drive home. This time it wasn’t me pumping up the music in the car, play-fighting or screaming out the need for a kebab stop… but that precious 9am wake up was sooo worth it.
How were the kiddies? Mum said she would happily have them both over again. Big night next time!
