Well this weekend was an initiation into the chaos and unpredictability of motherhood if ever there was one.
It started out so innocently. A wedding at The Lakehouse in Daylesford.
Beautiful! A whole weekend away. And rumoured to be there, were babysitters. At the venue. And an open bar.
My eyes lit up and I could almost taste the cocktails and feel the freedom on the dance floor.
I got organized for my Friday afternoon departure. Thursday was spent at the hairdressers. Friday was for packing. I will admit I was slightly overwhelmed.
I had a booking for a new car seat install at 1pm (Raffaela was going to go to Daylesford in style!) and with a baby who decided in some wonder leap like behaviour, to refuse to be put down alone, I was a little frenzied. I kept making a list in my head, forgetting about it and making another. With 5 minutes to spare, I was in the car, packed and on the way!
I had a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something, but told myself I was overthinking things.
2 hours later, car seat installed. It was 2pm and I drove through the Macdonalds drive thru – a cheeseburger and hash brown were excellent brunch choices.
I got to Daylesford around 4pm. Raffaela had slept the whole way there. New car seat was a magical sleeping aid. That cocktail and wedding freedom was closer than ever.
Ran into my mother-in-law and her husband downtown as I wandered the shops. We had a delicious coffee and we went to the house we had rented for the wedding weekend.
Casually discussing what we were all wearing to the wedding, I felt the blood drain from my face and the panic induced sweat that starts in the back of the neck as I just looked at my mother-in-law. “Fuck. My dress. Angelo’s suit. In Melbourne, hanging in our entrance”
That’s right, ladies and gents. I forgot the fucking clothes for the wedding.
I called Angelo, hands slightly shaking. Baby brain. Breastfeeding brain. Whatever it is, damn you!!
He was slightly annoyed but took it better than I anticipated. He was also stuck in Friday evening traffic, on his way to Daylesford and on the other side of town. So he was a ‘no’ for the clothing retrieval.
I resigned myself to the fact that tomorrow morning would be an early start and an unplanned road trip to Melbourne (2 hours) and back.
Angelo and his sisters arrived in the next hour or so and looking at Raffaela, wondering still how I managed to forget something so important, a suspicious looking piece of yellow gunk in the corner of her eye caught my attention. It looked familiar… and as the hour progressed I was reminded of what it was. Conjunctivitis. Great. Baby has pink eye. The taste of cocktails was getting further and further out of reach.
Fast forward to the next day. 5.30am. In the car with Raffaela who didn’t sleep well all night, on my way to Melbourne.
The mothering gods were smiling down on me as I actually enjoyed my McCafe coffee, a sleeping baby the whole way there and back, and a beautiful sunrise.
The wedding was beautiful. Baby slept through the ceremony.
Mommy had a couple cocktails, yes. Did my slightly irresponsible action (2 drinks people. Settle down!) help baby sleep? Not a chance.
There was dancing. But with Raffaela and Angelo together on a dance floor with other toddlers and parents, before mains were served.
I’m sure 70% of the guests saw my boobs as I fed her throughout the night. They are a food source now.
I spent much of the night pushing the pram around and in bed by 10.30pm, next to Raffaela and Angelo.
We left the next morning, armed with tea and cotton balls for Raffaela’s eyes, and although a hectic weekend, it was quite an adventure and preview into the sort of family “holidays” we can expect to enjoy for say, the next 18 years or so.
What were your epic weekend plans that failed thanks to parenthood?