My son was invited to a fellow kindergarteners birthday… our first invite living in a new area, where I know NO ONE. I was pretty nervous okay? Caca in my pants nervous.
I bought a new outfit, waxed my eyebrows and even sprayed deodorant. I BECAME PRESENTABLE DAMN IT and I was ready to make friends like Donald Trump makes embarrassing tweets, ya know what I’m saying?
After fourty attempts at winged eyeliner. I arrived to the party looking a little like a lady of the night and cleopatra. (Not that prostitution is frowned upon these days.. you do you boo #feminism #makealivinghowyoulike).
The birthday mum opens the door and I’m like “heyyyyy! I know you! We were pregnant at the same time!” Thinking she was a mum that also recently had her baby that I met at childcare and had the same aged-gaped-children as me. “Oh really?! How olds your baby”… “3 months” I replied.
Submitting your rating…
“Oh mines 18 months” she responded.
She probably thought I was implying she looked like she just had a kid. Ya dickhead Laura.
It got worse from there… I was like a slow moving sloth hovering over my child and pretending he needed me, when it was *I* that needed him. I even asked if he wanted to hold my hand while he played with his friends but he looked at me like “piss off mum, you’re cramping my style”.
So I struck up a conversation with a dad, where I must have been so boring to talk to that he edged further and further away from me until he was about 10 meters away.
I messaged my husband and said “this is the worst, I have no one to talk to”… I even had it all planned out that I would write a post about how hard birthdays can be…
But that was until the birthday mum messiah handed me a glass of liquor with a wink and like Jesus, turned my watery personality into wine…
and I transformed into Priscilla… queen of the fourth birthday party.
A metaphorical crown planted on my head and I walked around the party like a majestic gazelle, waving like the queen to the fellow party go-ers.
“Hello, yes… I am wearing purple eyeshadow today… yes this IS a chocolate stain on my pants FROM TODAY”
The magical drink found its way to my frontal lobe and impaired those inhibitions like a mother in law in the labour ward “don’t worry doctor I’ll cut the cord!”
Suddenly, the dad from earlier? I knew what he did for a living, met his wife, their three children and know where they live, what their thoughts are about the Illuminati and which bachelor they prefer.
I was pissed off this one glass of wine, and my fucks flew right out the window.
I got so deep with one lady we spoke about our fantasy’s… hers was making love for 12 hours and mine was sleeping for 12 hours..
I swear I was having such a good time that when this little boy came up to me asking me if he could go to the toilet I realised that I was in fact at a child’s party and this little boy was my son.
That glass of heavenly confidence boosting gold made my day.
I now have two phone numbers and a date to a drunken night out with three “bad moms” (I’m SAH MILA KUNIS)
Say what you will about mum drinking culture, but it brings people together…
And that’s how I got this DUI your honour.
Mums loved her honesty!
Mums loved how relatable and true Laura’s post was and agreed we all need that little bit of dutch courage at times.
Comments on laura’s post include –
“Aren’t you supposed to? I always have drinks at my kids bday parties. Half the parents don’t know each other and I can’t keep everyone’s entertained, have a drink, make some friends lol”
“For anyone who says you dont always need to drink to have a good time has never been to a 4 year olds birthday party, sometimes a little liquid courage goes a long way!!”
“Best post ever!! My tears of laughter are really feelings of “oh my god I know the feeling babe, we got you”. #badmomcrew ”
“It’s a right of passage to have wine at kids parties haha”
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