Tonight. The husband and I are managing an actual ‘date night’. In the midst of a kitchen refurb. Without any children. With plenty of wine.
(If your pelvic floor allows you to, please feel free to clap at this point…)
And don’t worry – this isn’t going to be some twatty attempt at advising you on a happy marriage – as we all already know… a happy marriage is what you had before your uterus squeezed out a HUMAN-SHITTING-BEING. TWICE… now what you have is guilt, exhaustion, bribery, a slightly excessive wine-dependency and the lasting memory of your vagina exploding into a thousand tiny future occasions where you won’t be having sex. So that’s kinda the same thing as happiness right…? Yeah…
So here’s my before and after kids date night comparison for you all to cry to:
Before Kids: A nice bath, a quick shave of the legs and a lengthy peruse of the many many marmite-free clothes you can actually fit into without first applying industrial strength lycra to everything that wobbles. (Which is everything) Perhaps you spent a few hours doing your make-up and experimenting with different ways to wear your already shiny, shiny, tangle-free, shiny hair… perhaps you simply flicked your head about a bit and it its sort of ‘fell’ really nicely, either way – you never fully appreciated that hair now did you. YOU DICK.
After Kids: You’re stabbing yourself in the face with a mascara wand as you exercise an impressive one-handed-Jumperoo-entry. (Something you’ve been practising with your baby for a while and are very proud of. ACTUALLY). This allows you to remove the toddler-borrowed Peppa Pig hair band from your hair without fear of a 5-month old with a GRIP OF IRON ripping fistfuls from your scalp as you cry through Incy Wincy Spider in an attempt to distract him into submission. Now is also about the time you slightly regret letting the toddler paint your finger nails…
Before Kids: A London show, a posh spa break, a fancy restaurant… the possibilities were endless…
After Kids: Frankly, anywhere you get to take an actual real-time poo BY YOURSELF with the bastard toilet door CLOSED, and eat chocolate in the open air instead of hiding behind the door of the cupboard of shame without chewing in case the toddler catches you… is good. Thanks.
Before Kids: A romantic walk, a gallery, cocktails by the river, afternoon sex without one of you checking the monitor screen is still on every minute or so… and other such MADNESS.
After Kids: I’m sorry you expect me to actually do something? I was thinking horizontal. With wine. In between naps. Later on, instead of sex you could sit around sharing stories/crying about the way your body used to look and flicking through selfies from your episiotomy. He’d never get past the Spanx after a few glasses of wine anyway…
Before Kids: Champagne, fine wines, expensive gin-cocktails with random bits of posh-shit floating in them… and whatever you can’t pronounce on the menu…
After Kids: Jaeger Bomb and a KFC. Eaten with both hands. While still hot. Whilst checking twitter. #WINNING. If you’re feeling really posh you might go proper classy and go for a Nandos.
Don’t forget to keep calling back home the every 20 or 30 minutes or so… so you never get the point where you can actually relax. Or anything silly like that.
And also don’t forget to continually take selfies throughout the day to post on social media just to make sure everyone you’ve ever known/seen/went to school with can see what an awesome time you’re having and that this is totally not out of the ordinary for you or anything… (Don’t accidentally post an episiotomy selfie after too much Zinger Tower/Jaeger combos… #awkward.)
And remember to drink way too much so that your only chance of a decent night’s sleep this year is ruined by a KFC sponsored HANGOVER OF THE CENTURY.