Ahoy there, shipmates!

Hello there!! *raises head gingerly above parapet*. Well I’m still here, whether anyone is still reading may be more in doubt however.

Since my last post, much has happened. Many bottles of wine have been consumed, a few stinking hangovers have been weathered. I’ve been reading blogs still, and thinking about my drinking, and watching some newbies heading into their AF world, as usual feeling a lot of affinity with my blogging friends, and rooting for you all.

I’ve been mostly keeping a lid on my drinking. In Red-World, this means not drinking at all on the three nights a week where I have work the next day. And then on the other 4 nights, consuming at least a bottle of wine per night. Oh – and then there have been the weekends where I’ve been at parties (the one where we had 2 craft beer hand-pulls set up in our mates kitchen was memorable. Or was it? Damn you, alcohol-induced memory loss). Or the weekend we had friends to stay, and started drinking at 5pm, and stopped drinking the following 3am. And the particularly spectacular hangover I experienced after a Friday night at home with Mr Red, where I proceeded to attempt to numb the stress of the previous week with ALL of the wine. I must blog this next bit as it’s possibly my lowest hangover moment EVER. Ahem. Here goes.

I woke late, after my kind husband had risen with the children and allowed me to lie in. I had the kind of headache/sick/roiling stomach where only water therapy will work, so I got myself into the shower, drank a soluble vitamin drink and took some painkillers. Big mistake – when will I learn that paracetamol is a bad idea on an already overloaded liver & stomach? I stood in the shower as long as I could, but I was freezing so I ran the bath and sat in it, with the shower still going on my head. I soon started to feel really quite sick as the painkillers did their worst. I was about to get out of the bath and head for the loo, at which point, my youngest son (3) burst into the bathroom, announcing his urgent need for a poo. He then clambered up onto the loo, hidden from sight by a small wall, but chatting happily away to me. I, on the other hand, proceeded to very quietly, but quite violently, throw up into my own bathwater. The young man went about his business, blissfully unaware, and returned downstairs, while I then attempted to shall we say “wash away the shame”.

I am aware just how revoltingly, awfully bad this is. And on re-reading the above, its perfectly obvious I am in no way “keeping a lid” on anything. This was a couple of weeks ago, and things have calmed down a bit now. But I’m coming again to the conclusion that drinking is impacting on my life, the children’s life, and that all the stress I’m trying to blot out is only being exacerbated by the drinking habit. The stress is fucking ENORMOUS at the moment by the way; my job, looking after the house and 3 children, and Mr Red’s business are all taking their toll on me. But I know, in my hind-brain, that this would all improve if I could just let go of my alcohol-crutch, and maybe try some exercise and self-care instead. But hey – that ain’t the easy option, now is it?

I’m managing to find time to write this, as I’ve been battling a chest infection for over two weeks now, and today finally I admitted I need a sick day off. Trying not to impact on work, I’ve picked today (a non-working day) and the only way to do this was to get my eldest to school, then drive the twins to their Gran’s for the day. I finally got back home to bed at 11am, and I’ve been resting in bed, and watching John Hughes movies. Probably the first time I’ve had a proper sick day in 5 years. Oh for the pre-kids days when you could pick up the phone and call in sick still in your dressing gown.. Still, got to get up in an hour and do the school run. Go Mummy-Power!!! (Cough/sneeze/splutter).

Anyway, here I am. No drinking last night, and there’ll be none tonight. We’ll just see how the weekend goes. But I’m feeling more determined than I have in ages. Wish me luck, friends.