The Mummy Diaries – Trying to be adult with a hangover


Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on reddit
Share on print
Share on email

LOCKDOWN day 399,507 or so it seems and it’s just another week – but with one exception! My family had come up with the idea of doing movie-themed dinner nights over Zoom so we could virtually get together while enduring a second year of prison lockdown.

The idea was to roll the dice and whoever’s number it fell on, they need to come up with a film and menu for the theme. We would then need to get dressed up in characters from the movie and make a three course dinner from the menu provided by the host.

I was so excited at the prospect of having an evening of getting dressed up and enjoying a few drinks and a laugh and some adult conversation. It’s not to say that James and I don’t enjoy adult conversation, but something other than…

“Who ate all the fecking biscuits?!”


“Can you smell sick?”

Might make a nice change for one evening.

So, Saturday night arrived and I was busy prepping the food for the dinner while James was upstairs getting the kids ready for bed. I was enjoying cooking and the peace of not having a two and four-year-old hanging off my leg, so I decided to pour myself a wee vino and chill.

Ah bliss.

“Right, that’s the kids down.” Says James slightly out of breath and looking like he’d just walked out of a world war. “I’m going for a shower and I’ll get ready.”

“Okay!” I said, while finishing up the dinner and putting everything to one side.

30 minutes, two glasses of wine and some YouTube later and James makes an appearance. My turn!

An hour later…

“Emma! Come on, it’ll be starting in five minutes!” Roars James from downstairs.

Fox. Ache.

I raced down the stairs and got the Zoom set up and we were good to go! Everyone was on the best of form and I just about remember making it to dessert when James said, “Do you want a brandy Emma?”

That’s where it gets hazy. In fact that’s where it goes black.

6.45am the next morning..


I wake before I even open my eyes and already feel the throbbing pain in my head.


Am I still alive (?) was all I was thinking.

“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!!!!!!” Roars Jamie.

“Ssssssssssh! What? What’s wrong?”

“My beds wet.” He says.

Fox. Ache. “Okay, hang on, go into the bathroom and get changed.”

“Feeling rough?” Asks James smugly.

“Jes, I dunno, I only had…”

“Mmm, you only had a couple of wines, a couple of brandy’s and then started on the G&T’s. I went to bed just as you were about to give your sister advice on marriage.” James says smiling.

Typical! The one morning I wake up completely dying and one of the kids has wet the bed, singing “You are my sunshine” at the top of their lungs. The other then makes an appearance and happily announces, “Mummy, remember you said we could go to Asda today and we can buy baking stuff, and make buns, remember?”

I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.

Aargh! I DO remember. Why oh why did I agree to this? But that’s the thing with kids. They don’t care whether your leg is hanging off or you have stupidly drunk yourself smashed the night before and turned into some geriatric Ricki Lake giving marriage advice to a member of the family. If you have agreed to do something, then it’s set in stone.

Ah well, at least the rest of my family were probably smashed as well and won’t remember my embarrassing antics.

Opens laptop.

Email from sister: Hey Em! Omg you were hilarious last night, I got loads of tips on marriage and when you hung up from the Zoom and said Yippee Ki yay mother f@£#ers I was in hysterics!

Oh my..

Email from mum: Hi Emma, was good to see you letting your hair down last night but you need to stop swearing so much and maybe assess your drinking limits? Anyway, was good fun and here’s the link for the Zoom recording from last night..

Zoom recording?! Great! Not only is it bad enough that I’m having horrendous flashbacks but now it’s on file. Forever. What tube at Zoom came up with that idea?

The thing about trying to get through a regular day with young kids whilst feeling like you are dying from alcohol poisoning is that a single, normal hour feels like five draining, exhausting, soul destroying hours. Doing the food shop is like the 11th hour of hell under normal circumstances so you can imagine my excitement when Lily decided to open the jar of ‘Eazee Garlic’ and pour it all over the full trolley load of shopping whilst I was packing the car.

On arriving home after throwing the kids a party size bag of Skips to get a moments peace, our neighbour, Janet and her six perfect kids cycle past the house waving.

“Afternoon Emma! Beautiful day isn’t it? Too good to keep the kids stuck in the house so we thought we’d all take a lovely bike ride together”

“Afternoon, aww lovely!” I replied whilst frantically stopping all the empty Skip bags from flying out of the car door.

Up yours Janet.

We get in to find the house empty and I look out the window to see James sorting the garden. (A job I’ve been nagging at him to do for weeks, except the one freaking day I need him to watch the kids for me so I can go to bed and die, he decides to start doing the sodding jobs!) I can’t exactly say anything now.

“Mummy! Let’s do baking!! Yeeeeaaaah!!” The kids chant.

*Note to self: Never EVER drink more than your usual two glasses of favourite beveridge on a Saturday evening until the kids have moved out. Oh, and technology is over rated.


Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on reddit
Share on print
Share on email
Scroll to Top