One of the biggest events in any Mum’s diary is Mums Night Out (just mine? Oh OK).
You know the one, it used to be called Girls Night Out and then you had children and it took on a slightly different dimension.
Mums Night Out provides the opportunity for you and your mum friends to let your hair down, try to grab back a bit of the person you once were. A nod back to your young and more debauched days.
It’s doesn’t happen as often as you’d like but when it does it’s an absolute BLAST.
It also follows a very similar timetable up and down the land…
Mums Night Out
Mums Night Out always starts on time. The Mums arrive eyes shining with delight and slightly flushed. Part caused by excitement and part caused by shoving the kids towards an appropriate adult while sprinting out of the door. There will be a LOT of navy and white stripes. I’ve no idea why Mums veer toward that nautical look but it happens to us all.
Time for a second drink, The first has been necked as if they expect it to be whisked from their hand or, worse still, SHARED. Underneath their chosen table will resemble the hold of a plane. Oversized handbags full of wet wipes, snacks, toys and spare socks.
After a frantic texting session, one Mum realises she’s fighting a lost cause. Her face will be etched with despair as she realises it’s all going down at home and this wasn’t to be her night. She downs the rest of her Merlot and bids a sad farewell.
By now, the empties on the table suggest a group twice the size – more ‘Rugby Lads on Tour’ than Mums night out. Conversation has moved on to inappropriate letching and the objectification of men, namely Mr Bloom, Mister Maker, Dr Ranj and whomever may have read the Cbeebies bedtime story recently.
There will be at least one declaration of
‘he can read me a bedtime story any time‘.
Josh Homme, I’m looking at you…
*sultry wink that looks more like I’ve got something in my eye*
The fast flowing beverages and previous conversation lead to absolute hysterics and actuLOLing.
This in turn leads to a look of panic and 75% of the group rushing to the toilet and cursing their weak pelvic floors.
The group has naturally divided into two. Those who can’t stop talking about their children/school/being a mum and those who have started to forget they even have children.
Then the inevitable happens, shots are suggested.
Hold onto your hats, things are going to get lairy.
A Sambucca or two leads to animated conversations about nights out in the BC years. Reminiscing about pubs and clubs that are probably closed now. Upon realising that they all attended the same club nights in town back in the day they talk about the chances that paths could have crossed ten years ago and yet it was birthing humans that bought this group together rather than shared interests and being cool.
Then it happens, those words are uttered…
“Let’s head into town tonight, make a night of it! It’ll be absolutely immense”
“Yes! Let’s make a night of it!”
After a fair amount of Googling to see where the cool kids go these days and a bit of discussion, going into town is put on the back burner.
After all, it is Wednesday and the kids still need taking to school in the morning.
The youngest won’t nap whilst you’re hanging and Lord KNOWS life as a parent is tough enough without throwing an old school hangover into the mix.
In fact it’s getting quite late already so we should probably be heading home now.
Next time though.
Without a doubt.
Drinks are finished off, oversized bags are retrieved and Ubers are summoned.
Everyone has had the best night and decide Mums Night Out really must be a regular thing, just not the last Wednesday of the month or the one when the PTA happens.
And maybe not Friday or Saturday because, that’s the weekend.
And Tuesdays and Thursdays are no good but YES!
A plan will be made.
Pizza has been consumed, leftovers are in the kitchen ready to announce your crime to your family and remind you of your midweek drunken shame. Make up is removed and it is bedtime.
You give yourself a congratulatory high-five for being able to have a top night out AND be in bed for your usual time.
For once you’re winning at adulting.
Now for a good 8 hours before the smalls wake up, if only the bed would stop spinning….