Hangovers and Parenting Don't Mix: Throwback Thursday

I love Halloween. Every year, I try to party like a rock star in an outfit that is usually just my own sassy interpretation of a costume (an excuse to wear something I could never get away with in real life and probably have no business wearing at my age anyway). Perhaps this love for Halloween comes from my childhood: I was rarely allowed to go trick or treating, because, according to my parents, my neighborhood was just not kid-friendly. The one year I do remember going (I was a chubby, kindergarten-age Superwoman, complete with one of those plastic face masks with the elastic on the back of the head), my parents said it was too dangerous to go after dark, so they made my sister take me like at four in the afternoon, and every time someone opened a door, they remarked "Already?" or "Wow, you're early!" So I guess one could overanalyze that it's one of those childhood-repression-rebellion-psychology situations. But the simple truth is that for someone who can be pretty Type A, Halloween allows me the freedom to throw caution (and oftentimes, good taste) to the wind and go all out. Body glitter? Check. 50-Shades-themed handcuffs? Check. Black lipstick? Check. Halloween is just frickin' Fun. So since this is the first year in a while that Hubby and I are not doing anything sassy and scary on Halloween weekend, I thought it'd be a perfect repost for my second Throwback Thursday.
*(I'm not surprised to see how different the boys look in these pics--so tiny and adorable!--but seriously, how is it possible that a mere four years can make such a damned difference in the adults' faces?!?)

Hangovers and Parenting Don't Mix
Posted originally here on November 1, 2009 

Being hungover is bad.

Being hungover while tending to two small children is really, really bad. But as my friend (who is a bit of a smart-ass) likes to say: "You play, you pay."

 

And oh, did we play...

 

 

We played so much, in fact, that this morning while everyone was enjoying a greasy diner breakfast on South Beach, I was lying down in the booth, asleep.

 

Classy.

 

 

Now, I know it sounds like I overdid it last night. But I didn't. Really. It's true. Ask around. Even my friends and husband (who are always brutally honest) said they were surprised by how bad I felt today. In fact, my drink of choice (white wine as opposed to the oh-so-much-more-appropriate-at-a-club Grey Goose) was selected simply based on its non-hangover effects.

 

But after I had to run to the bathroom to puke my life away the moment I got home today instead of greeting my children (who, by the way, did not seem in the least bit slighted as they continued to run around with their visiting cousins), I had to admit I was hungover...bad

 

After much pondering, I came to the realization: it is not just hangovers and parenting that don't mix. It's partying and parenting.

 

You go into the party situation with a low immune system. You're tired. You're sleep-deprived. You're chronically stressed. The sad, sad truth is I just can't hang like I used to.

 

It is rare that I am able to stay up past 9:30 most nights. Last night? We left the house at 9:30, and then we still had to check into a hotel, get dressed up, and go to the club. (I admit, when we walked into the hotel room, a part of me wished we were just sleeping all night.) This was all after a day of activities: soccer game at 8:30 sharp, breakfast out with the whole family, jack-o-lantern carving, and a round of trick-or-treating...

 

 

Not to mention that this was also after a week of 2 more pediatrician visits and 2 sleepless nights filled with fever checks, coughing fits, and nebulizer treatments. (Yes people, my recent laundry list of household ailments has grown longer.) Add to this one nearly empty stomach, and it explains how a few glasses of wine and a few hours of dancing did me in.

So you see, it wasn't the alcohol that gave me the hangover.

It was the parenting.