Before a girls’ night out, this is the cheat sheet I left for my husband

Ever since I was 16 years old and got a fake ID (sorry, Dad), I have loved socialising. I’m what they call an extroverted introvert.

I love the buzz. The outfits. The free-flowing conversation. The laughing. I love music and I love the dance floor. I have never considered myself a good dancer, but there is something about music that lights up my soul. My hips just take over and have a mind of their own. “Whoa,” I hear you say, “is that Shakira or Beyoncé on the dance floor?” No, it’s just me, absolutely feeling myself, the beat and the energy of the music.

A happy, recharged mum is a more patient mum, says Amy Gerard.

When we were 17, my friend Lauren and I used to put on skin-coloured stockings, denim miniskirts and tank tops and trek into the city in the middle of winter. We’d go to our favourite club on Sydney’s Oxford Street and dance for seven hours straight. I remember sometimes leaving there as the sun was coming up, having sweated so much it was like I’d just stepped out of the shower.

When I lived in England in my 20s I would go out almost every night of the week. I travelled around Europe and partied in Ibiza. If there was a dance floor, I was on it.

My daughter, Charli, was conceived after a night out at a time when my husband, Rhian, and I were most certainly not trying for a baby. I’m almost certain we were doing the Nutbush one minute and the next he was pulling out too late.

But motherhood hit me like a freight train and within 12 hours of Charli being born, I knew I’d be hanging up the dancing shoes momentarily while I tried to get a grip on my new reality.

It’s the beauty and the curse of having a newborn. Especially your first. It forces you to slow right down, but then there’s not a lot to do once you do, apart from heal, if you are anything like me.

Rhian and I felt like zombies for the first six months of parenting and every part of our relationship changed. Our dynamic and the foundation upon which our relationship had formed – socialising, travelling, dancing, being out and about – all kind of stopped.

For the first six months of Charli’s life, I didn’t really do much other than be there for her. I said no to many invitations because I felt leaving her was the wrong thing to do. I wish someone had told me that it’s perfectly fine to duck out for a quick meal with a girlfriend here and there.

I remember the very first time I left Charli with my mum, when she was only three months old. It was for my 30th birthday and I lasted only three hours. The night was filled with all my favourite people, and I tried to enjoy myself while spending the majority of it in the toilet, leaning over the handwashing basin and milking myself like a dairy cow. I couldn’t wait to get home to Charli and throw her immediately on to the tit to relieve the pressure.

No one, and I mean no one, is more deserving of a night out than a new mum. She needs some time to feel like herself again.

AMY GERARD

Fast-forward three years and our little unit of three had become five. Rhian and I were both doing (in my humble opinion) a pretty good job at parenting and starting to enjoy going out a little bit more.

Our speciality was weddings. We don’t really have a middle gear – we are either drinking or we are driving – and if you invite us to your wedding, Rhian will remove his shirt at some point, I’ll get everyone up doing the Nutbush and there will be limited water consumption.

I wish First-Time Mum Amy had been told how crucial it is to take some time out of parenting.

No one, and I mean no one, is more deserving of a night out than a new mum. She needs some time to feel like herself again. It doesn’t have to involve alcohol and a dance floor (although, when these two things are combined, it can result in a sensational night out, speaking from experience!). It might be a vegan dinner followed by some palm-reading, or a hotel room, a cheese platter, an eye mask and a sleep-in.

Whatever it is that your heart desires, make sure you are consistently making time for yourself. A happy, recharged mum is a more patient mum, after all.

Although Rhian has always been a hands-on dad, he works long hours and doesn’t get home until after the kids are in bed during the week. So, for his first night alone with all three kids, I wrote a cheat sheet to help him.

It included very casual things:

• Keep aircon on at 23 degrees.
• Keep Bobby from streaking outside.
• Kobe will eat dinner at 4.30pm. He will want twice the amount I’ve left for him, so be prepared to crack open some pouches and don’t be alarmed when he shrieks at you like a dying goat. He’ll let you know when he’s full by going quiet and defecating in his nappy, which will end up behind his ears because of the sitting position.
• Do not let Bobby and Charli help you change Kobe. They mean well but everyone will end up with poo on their fingers, which will then end up on the wall or in Bobby’s eye.
• Charli and Bobby eat dinner at 5pm. Charli likes to be fed like a baby bird. Bobby will be doing laps of the lounge room with no pants on. Don’t be offended if he doesn’t acknowledge your orders to sit down. [We are still working on his listening skills.]
• Bobby and Charli only get dessert if they both finish dinner. Keep an eye on Charli because she will excuse herself to use the loo multiple times. Spoiler alert: she’s spitting mouthfuls into the bin. [Our kids will literally do anything for dessert.]
• MAKE SURE YOU GIVE THEM BOTH THE SAME COLOUR ICE-CREAM OR THERE WILL BE WAR.
• Run the bath at 5.45pm., get the water to 42.5 degrees. Bellybutton height. Everyone gets a bath bomb (except Kobe). Try to stop Bobby from eating his.
• Put all three on the toilet before the bath, otherwise they will all piss in the bath and you will end up with it splashed all over your face.
• Bobby will make you chase him around the house 43 times as he nude-air-dries himself, and dressing him is like dressing a pitbull puppy.
• Kobe will begin malfunctioning around 6pm. Bottle is in the fridge on the top shelf. Heat it up for 45 seconds. Put a bib on him and a bath sheet on you because he’s the Vomatron 1000. Feed him on a 78 degree angle in your arms. Be ready for the burp.
• Kobe goes to bed at 6.15pm. Put him in a cocoon; ensure white noise is so loud it sounds like a Russian fighter jet to block out Charli and Bobby. Lay him in his cot and walk out.
• Read Charli and Bobby two books. They get to choose one each. Charli will choose Cinderella because it’s the longest book in the bookcase. Do not attempt to skip pages or lines because she has memorised every single word.
• Charli and Bobby bed: 7pm.
• Charli will want water.
• Charli will want face tickles.
• Charli will want you to lie next to her.
• Spend the next hour putting Bobby back to bed multiple times.
• And lastly, DO NOT CALL ME. By the time you get to this point, I will have had too many wines and be deeply invested in my small breath of freedom, so keep going.
• You’re doing great, sweetie!

What I realised was that going out and giving it a slight nudge, then waking up to not one or two but three children, was some sort of fresh hell. Kids don’t care that you’ve gone out the night before. They want to play. They want toast at 5.30am. They want to shit their pants and tell you about it from downstairs while you want to lay in bed upstairs and nurse your poor head.

But while life definitely does change pace for a while, and all the things you loved doing fade into the background momentarily, you will find yourself again. Whatever it is that makes you feel alive, do more of that. Just make sure you’ve fed the kids, dropped them off at your parents’ or in-laws’ house and put a Hydralyte and two Nurofen next to your bed.

Now, go feel like your young and carefree self again (just with weaker knees and slight incontinence issues)!

Edited extract from Strap Yourself In (Allen & Unwin) by Amy Gerard, out now.

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