It was my birthday on Saturday. I am now 27. I feel like I should be panicking about getting older, and taking that single step closer to death. But, as I sit here while my one year old naps, I think perhaps 27 still feels young. Maybe if I did not have the one year old napping, then I might drunkenly ponder where my life was going. Perhaps I would worry about my rotting eggs, like a character on a bad US sit com. Or maybe I would be so drunk that I wouldn’t have time to worry about anything apart from how to clean vomit off a white wall.
Two years ago, pre-Ebony, I had a party to celebrate my twenty fifth birthday. Ah, so young. It was a house warming too. There were daiquiris, and amarettos, and prosecco. I think. I don’t remember. It was a very drunken night. And a very hungover next morning. Shortly after, I found out I was expecting. Cue weeks of terrifying panic that the poor fetus inside me would be swimming in alcohol, and would become the first in-utero member of the AA. Luckily, the twelve week scan showed a healthy baby, with no floating Carlsberg cans in sight.
That birthday party, was the last time I had a night of debauchery. After nine long sober months of pregnancy, it would be fair to say I drank a little too much at times during 2012, but it was nothing like my pre-Ebony life. I haven’t been on a night out for years, because I can’t bring myself to miss a bedtime. I've tucked Ebony in every night so far.
I gave up a much-loved career to stay close to Ebony, so I’m not about to ditch her for a night a drunken foolery. Although I’m sure it would be very fun, if I was able to stop worrying about Ebony for long enough. It’s always me who puts Ebony to bed, and I hate the thought of her wondering where I was. She’s not yet old enough to understand the concept of “back tomorrow” or “wandering round Manchester screeching drunkenly”. I hope that at some point within the next few months, she will be at a stage where she understands. And then I shall leave her, and go out and have fun. In an embarrassing drunk-mum way. But until them, I am happy staying home with Ebony, because I feel lucky we’ve been able to get to this stage without being separated for long.
So, instead of going out for a much-needed night of drunken fun with my friends this weekend, we celebrated with a quiet, family weekend away. It was really lovely to get away and relax. We didn’t have electricity so couldn’t charge up our phones, and didn’t have much signal or internet access anyway. It was nice to get away from my emails and stop worrying about my to do list. It was also nice that the husband couldn’t check his work emails or spend the weekend worrying about work.
We went to Hebden Bridge, a place I have fond childhood memories of. I love Hebden Bridge. It’s such a
lovely, quirky place. Everywhere I looked there were vegan options on menus, babywearers and the occasional hard drug user. Ok, so it’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s still the place I hope to grow old someday. We borrowed my parents’ motorhome and spent the weekend living in a farmer’s field. Ebony loved having space to run around in, and seemed to enjoy spending so much time outdoors.
Some photos of the weekend:
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