It’s in my DNA, what can I say? This from a book at playgroup, love it! I remember this from my childhood (the book not the Scotsman staring sadly at this empty bottle).
The one question that I have asked me more than any other over the past month is ‘do you feel fantastic?’ This of course is in relation to my not drinking for almost a month (28 days to be precise – and counting). It is often asked with a hopeful tone of voice followed by relief when I give my answer…not as fantastic as I think I should! This is probably because I have had an incredibly busy few weeks, never have I been trying to keep as many balls in the air*, so rather than nurturing my de-toxing body I have been pushing it to its limits in terms of tiredness. The one thing I can say is that there is no doubt I would have dropped more balls had I also been having a couple of wines a night – and the rest at the weekend. As much as I revile the man, a quote that encompasses this comes from old George Dubya: ‘…drinking began to compete with my energy.’ Hmm, I’d never have put myself in the same basket as him!
It makes me slightly apprehensive about being allowed to ‘get back on it’ as one friend puts it. Although I have had the self-discipline to abstain for a month I know that, as an all or nothing person with, let’s face it, three good reasons (all under 7) to reward myself at the end of the day it could be a slippery slope back to the days of energy sapping boozing.
I was happy to read this morning though that a study conducted by Newcastle University (where else?) has concluded that ‘…consumption of champagne has the potential to influence cognitive functioning, such as memory.’ Bloody brilliant, it’s Veuve all the way then!
There have only been a handful of occasions over the month when I have really longed for a drink and, very like I remember the craving for a cigarette, the moments passed surprisingly quickly. The way in which it differed from cigarettes is the social acceptability of enjoying a glass or three. There are not many mums of young children I know who can’t or don’t join in with the playground banter about wine o’clock and/or a drink being the only thing that gets them through the witching hour. One friend didn’t drink for two and a half years after starting with a month like me – I guess she must have felt so great at the end of the month the very idea of compromising that inspired her to keep going. In a way I’m quite glad then not to feel utterly fabulous – that first glass is certainly going to taste good.
So cheers my dear fellow time-poor, sleep-deprived, down-trodden wonderfully supportive Mums, here’s to Sunday and a very happy (and mildly merry) Mother’s Day!
*Public apology number one – to the gorgeous Alice Curry, whose first birthday I forgot. Totally unforgivable especially as her gorgeous mum has been unfailingly wonderful at remembering the boys’ birthdays. I only wish I was there to grovel in person. Sorry sorry KC.
Public apology number two – to my Mum who loyally reads this drivel and who now probably wishes she doesn’t!
My nails after a gorgeous pampering session courtesy of Sam at the wonderful Northern Nursery Mother’s Day morning tea. He asks every day ‘do you like your nails Mummy?’ Needless to say they still look like this! I am wearing my polish with pride.