Normally, upon hearing a sentence like that, I murmur a sound of reluctant agreement and take another swig of
BUt this time, I heard it at a baby shower and there was no quick numbing of the imagination with a cool swoosh of alcohol. These gals were talking about LIFE. The miracle of birth. I could almost smell the fecundity in the air.
The tearing. The blood loss. The weight gain. The hemmorhoids the size of a block of flats hanging off your arse. Your nipples engorging to the size of a plum.
Someone....anyone....givemeafuckingdrinkbeforeIripmyearsoffandjamthemupmyvaginasoInevergetpregnant.
Please please don't get me wrong. I admire all mothers, and what they do. If it wasn't for the resilience of my own mum, I wouldnt be here, I wouldnt have fabulous siblings and you wouldnt be marvelling at my wit, brains and quite possibly my perfect butt.
It's just that motherhood is not for me.
Be grateful I'm not the maternal type. Here is an example: At the baby shower I had the opportunity to hold a very sweet little 3 month old baby called Michael. I carefully cradled him in my arms, marvelled at his little chubby face, and then....nothing.
"Hello Michael." I said.
............
"How are you?".
............
"How is your weekend going?".
I honestly have no idea what to say to babies. Maybe I've used up all my baby talk with my cats? I never call them by their proper names. I always cutesy it up - Floofle. Floogaboog. JumboJet. The Floo. Never just Louis and Jet.
Anyhow, I digress.
This weekend without alcohol was my first big hurdle. How to while away the hours without floating along a cloud of being pleasantly buzzed (or abhorrently shitfaced.) Do you keep socially busy, and risk finding yourself amongst a party of drinking revellers? Or do you hide under the pillows and blankets, too afraid to shower for fear some shampoo suds might find their way into your mouth, have a flashback of that night at a house party where you had rakija shots, and you find yourself 20 seconds later forlornly holding at an empty bottle of Garnier promising extra shine?
So I spent it doing a mix of both. I attended a dear friends baby shower, where on more than one occasion I was tempted to have a swig of pink bubbles. Each time the temptation arose, I stuffed my face with some kind of sugary substitute.
Saturday night I spent watching tv and eating fried chicken with the boy. And I didn't mind it. There is something to be said for eating with your hands, whilst sitting on the cat bed because you have no couch yet. Squabbles ensued over who would change the channel, as we both had sticky fingers. An early night for us both, with a cat on either side and the scent of sobriety and fried chicken wafting through Madam Meow Meows House of Noodle.
Sunday loomed large however. A whole day of just me and the cats. The boy was off to work bright and early. I'd spoken to my NOvember compatriate who was en route to the beach, should I wish to join him. I'd seen it was a lovely day, but I knew what happened at these barbecues. Hell, I was known for what happened at these barbecues.
Beer Beer everywhere and not a drop to drink.
So I declined and decided to stay at home and test out whether or not Space Bags actually worked.
(They do!! Three quarters of my wardrobe is currently stuffed into 6 large vacuum bags. I'm not sure how convenient it will be to get my day to day things, but I guess I got a little space bag happy.)
The rest of the time I spent chasing the big cat around the house with the vacuum cleaner handle making whooshing noises.
I'm not sure if I'm learning to have fun without alcohol, or if I'm slowly. going. mad. I may have to discuss this over a drink.
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