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Monday, June 24, 2013

Go hard or go home

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Not me.
My own childhood booze consumption pics all involve drinking direct from the bottle.
Just to clarify.


I am utterly exhausted.

It has been one helluva weekend.

Two parties.

TWO.

I feel like such a hard partying rock star.

Only I'm not.

In this scenario, I am merely the stage parent.

The Billy Ray Cyrus to The Feral Threesome's collective Miley.

The Dina Lohan to The Feral Threesome's Lindsay.

The Kris Jenner to The Feral Threesome's Kardashian Kollection of Kash earning Kids.

Clinging on to the facade of having a social life on account of my packed weekend of partying....

Only it wasn't my weekend of partying at all.

It was The Feral Threesome's weekend of partying.

I was merely an observer.  A plus one.  A chauffeur.  A Social Co-ordinator, at a stretch.

My children have a more active social life than I do.

Which I could come to terms with, were they teenagers or 20-something's who party hard until the wee hours of the morning.

But we're talking about 4 year old twins and a 7 year old.

I am envious.

I am disgusted (in the state of my own social calendar).

I am embarassed (a little bit by their dance moves, but mostly by my non-existent social presence).

Most of all, I am utterly exhausted.

By pass the parcel and lolly bags and the joyous but sound barrier ear drum shattering screams of delight from groups of sugared up, partying kids.

Go hard or go home.

It has a totally new meaning now that I'm a mother.

In my hey day it meant leave work at one of WA's weekend newspapers at 5pm on a Friday and commence partying immediately.  Go until 6am Saturday when the last clubs closed, and head straight back to work for my 7am start each Saturday.  Finish work Saturday afternoon and head home for a quick couple of hours rest before doing it all again.

Go hard or go home.

Now it's heading home after the ear drum bashing, hiding the lolly bags so that I can covertly steal the best lollies before gradually handing the rest out to the kids over the course of a week in order to reduce the sugar rush to a bare minimum.

And then brewing a nice hot cup of soothing tea.

And changing into something with an elastic waistband that matches my slippers.

Go hard or go home, please can we just go home.

At this rate I should just check into the nearest nursing home now.  At age 34.

As long as it has a no partying, no noise policy in effect from 5pm.  Lest my near comatose lifestyle be disturbed.



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9 comments:

  1. LOL - gotta love it when your children have a fuller social calendar than you do !
    Have the best week eating the good lollies !
    Me

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I console myself with the knowledge that at least I can drink wine. At my private party. At home. With just me in attendance.

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  2. My toddler has tickets to four concerts/stage shows this year. Four! I'll be surprised if I make it to one (apart from the fact that I will be chauffeuring her to all of her concerts). On the plus side, I am quietly stoked that I get to see Play School live, Disney Princesses on Ice and Giggle and Hoot, and was insanely jealous when my hubby nabbed the "plus 1" ticket to The Wiggles.

    On another note, that photo looks a bit like one from my childhood! My parents owned a pub when my brother and I were little - we were always proud of the fact that we could tap a keg at the age of 4. lol

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Shut up! Your parents owned a pub?! OMG, why did I now know this when we were at school? They must've moved on by then, right? Otherwise I would've been on you like white on rice, just hoping for a sleep over!

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    2. Why did I *not* know this. Ugh, excited typing typo...

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  3. Love it! And can definitely relate, the realisation that I had to buy a bigger calender to fit in my children's social events - not mine, I didn't have any! - was quite a sobering moment!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep, I live in a teeny tiny pocket book type diary in my handbag. They have a fridge mounted calendar. 2 full pages to a month. Size does matter...

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  4. It gets better ... once they're all adults and have left home. Or at least get a licence and can drive themselves to their parties. But then their parties will often involve alcohol and so you might find yourself picking them up once again but at the parent-friendly hour of 3am.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am going to be the party parent that goes out with them. I have just decided this. At least I will get my social life one day, even if it's when I'm fighting arthritis and they're trying to ditch me. It will be like revenge mixed with living vicariously through their unwilling selves.

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