Weekend Drama – The joys of parenting

And so I was right. Despite being housebound, my life has continued to be ridiculous over the weekend. Ridiculous by association.

This was the turn of my eldest daughter (17). She has focused her whole week excitedly on the first 18th birthday party of her school year. She has spent hours altering a dress, ordering pink hair dye, arranging for pre drinks with her friends at mine. Her outfit was stunning (see below). She has good style. She has appeared to do no school work all week in this excitement and has definitely not helped me.

I remember getting excited for every night out but never this excited. This difference with this generation is that we were in the pubs every weekend from 14/15 whereas this is her first proper party in a pub in town. It is easy to look back on the halcyon days of our youth with rose tinted glasses but it was brilliant fun, every weekend filled with endless possibilities. We would party, drink too much, kiss inappropriate boys (girls weren’t really a thing in the 90s) and then as we didn’t have mobile phones, we would rush excitedly to school on Monday to discuss the weekend gossip. Now teenagers spend much of their time isolated at home on social media as they cannot even get in a pub never mind drink without ID. The plus side is they will all have healthier livers than my generation of closest high functioning alcoholics all caused by teenage years of cider fuelled binge drinking.

Back to the present, I didn’t really see my daugher on Saturday (standard). She regularly sleeps til noon and then hangs out in her room. There was no change to this routine just because her mum is incapacitated. Disappointingly no offers of help. This Saturday there was a flurry of activity whilst she went to her dad’s to dye her hair pink (you are not ruining my bathroom – go to your dad’s. its a shithole anyway).

The sun was shining – a beautiful and unseasonably warm autumn day. My best friend came over (you know its you really Emma!) with her children to keep me company and to entertain my youngest. I decided that vitamin D was the best remedy for a hysterectomy and lounged in my garden all afternoon (everyone keeps telling me to rest! – The sun makes it easier).

I overdid it, I did 2 tiny walks on Saturday (this is killing me), two tiny walks and by 6pm I was exhausted and had to lie on the sofa whilst my friend made me dinner. Is this normal? I have never been this wiped out before but in hospital I heard the constant mantra “it was major surgery”. Literally the worst thing you could say to a hypochondriac. I probably am overdoing it, that is my way but I am trying to listen to my body and relax after overdoing it.

I had promised my other 2 kids a dirty takeaway and a cosy Saturday night. We emptied the shrapnel from our collective purses and wallets and ordered a takeaway, all lined up for a top Saturday night coupled with my unexpected bottle of Malbec and M&S delights sent by a friend who had bombarded me with legal questions all week.

Suddenly my youngest bursts through the door to tell me her big sister has been sick. “Been sick???” “It’s only 7 o’clock”. Still feeling wiped out I shout my 17 year old down to the lounge. She comes in wearing her beautiful new dress with her carefully dyed pink hair – “What? I am not drunk” she says, eyes black and glassy. I am probably one of the most tolerant parents on the planet and can’t really judge given that at her age I was like this regularly and at the same point in Upper 6th, the same week I was voted headgirl, I was hospitalized after tripping and banging my head on the pavement after drinking spirits right outside the pub where she was off to the 18th tonight (I think I was chasing a boy!). But, for exactly that reason, I did not want her to go out. Only bad things could happen. I know this better than anyone.

I told her she couldn’t go out, that she would hurt herself for make a fool of herself. She quietly said ok and stumbled back upstairs to her friends. Meanwhile my poor friend and my son (that was a turn up) were cleaning up her vomit from her bedroom floor and consoling her friend who was crying n the bathroom as she had supplied the drinks. Harcore drinks as it turns out. Not the couple of cocktail cans I had bought for them to share but JD and Vodka. Anyone who knowes me well knows I don’t drink spirits. I learnt at a similar age that they don’t agree with me making me hideously drunk and giving me week long hangovers (Espresso Martini – excellent fun for 30 minutes then in bed for a week – not worth it!)

20 minutes later, we hear the party move downstairs, a bang as my daughter falls down the stairs, my friend who is a teacher (not to be messed with) tries to block the door but my tiny 5ft 2 daughter (possibly one of the reasons for her total inebriation by 7pm) pushes her out of the way and runs down the front street.

Shit! This was tricky. Whilst mildly amusing on the surface, this evening could not end well. I have never been in this situation before, watching a disaster unfurl before my eyes but unable to stop it. I can’t drive and can’t walk more than 200m. What was I going to do? Hobble into the pub and drag her away? I rang her dad – he doesn’t answer calls from me (I know – very immature – its his girlfriend, she doesn’t let him talk to me) – no response. Apparently he is out of town for his birthday. My parents are at a party so will likely be in the same state as my daughter.

Takeaway arrives just as she leaves. That reminds me of the time I had a horrible fight with my sister and then drove around town with my car boot open (“shit mum the car boot is open says the then 10 year old) with all my clothes in the boot (during the height of my air bnb season – more of this to come) and when we got home the kids asked, what about the takeaway??? What do you mean, you still want a takeaway after this horrendous evening??? “Yes we do!!”. Kids tuck in. My exhaustion has passed in the midst of the storm. My other kids and my friend’s kids are nervously excited by the drama but also worried. My friend’s kids who are younger than mine have never experienced such teenage drama (can we come again mum?). We are hoping this is a lesson in not drinking for all of them.

We are all worried, try to distract ourselves watching Billy Elliott (brilliant film – forgot about the bad language!) when earlier than expected we hear a car then a bang then a kerfuffle and the front door bangs open. There seems to be a 40 year old woman pushing my daughter up the stairs. I hobble to the door ready to defend my lack of action on the recent slicing of my stomach. “Who are you I ask”? “A friend from 6th form” she replies. It was the bouffant that confused me.

My daughter totally paralytic but safe in bed. We all spring into action, sick bucket by the bed, I put her PJs on and take off her jewellery remembering first hand how horrendous it is to wake up with fingers swollen fatter than your rings (I once ended up at the fire brigade having a ring cut off after a wild night out with my cousin). All calm – and relaxed until 1 hour later, a huge bang, my son runs upstairs and finds my daughter all dressed up ready to go back to the party. “How do you feel”. “Good”. “Good???”. We put her back to bed and go pour myself a wine.

All remained calm til morning. I got up one or twice to chek she was breathing. I came down the next morning to find her sat on the sofa watching Brassic like nothing had happened. “Sorry about last night mum”. Is that it???

Anyway she has lost her brand new phone – £160 2 weeks ago, found out a random bar man had brought her home, had to go apologise, still hasn’t found her phone and I have grounded her. My parents never grounded me and I carried on with the binge drinking (still do – last time in June – never again until the next time). My family has an addictive gene so I need to nip this in the bud now!

And if she decides to carry on binge drinking (just like her mum) then she can heed the following Baz gems of wisdom:

1. Always have an emergency “nana” – useful for lining your stomach before drinking and a great hangover cure.

2. Never ever take out anything valuable – still waiting to get my bag back after my last big night out in June – sensibly it only contains an old cardigan and some old flip flops.

3. Always have dinner before drinking

4. Never drink spirits

5. Always stick with your friends and tell someone where you are going

6. Drink full fat coke the net day (diet contains nothing!)

Turns out a barman in the pub drove her home.
He came round again on Monday night with her bag,  phone and debit card.
“Found in the pub car park” – like an episode of Shameless back in the day.
His name was Louis.
Thank you Louis!