I wasn't an alcoholic, but this is how I stopped relying on 'Mummy wine time'

"I used to text mum-friends a photo of a full glass of Pinot with the words ‘tough day’."

Cherie Gilmour

2 min read

April 24, 2024 - 10:12AM

Parenting

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Before I had kids, I was obsessed with No Lights, No Lycra; a dance party in total darkness, so you can let loose and sweat out your feelings. Basically, free therapy.

There’s nothing like moving to music with zero self-consciousness. Maybe I’ll swing my arms around my head. Great idea! What if I try break dancing? No worries!

Cut to the present day, where I spend most of the time feeling like I’m failing as a parent, with, until recently, zero free dancing. Instead, I focused on my mum-guilt. I wasn’t present enough. I wasn’t firm enough. I was too firm. My toddler had a meltdown at the shops, and everyone was watching.

Then, so often, 5 pm rolled around, and I'm reaching for a bottle of wine because #mummywinetime.

I'd text mum-friends a photo of a full glass of Pinot with the words ‘tough day’, and we’d all swap memes of cheesy 80s dancercise videos on Instagram with the caption ‘how I feel after a glass of Prosecco’.

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"I didn't drink a lot but I relied on it"

One day, I wondered if other people Googled if they’re an alcoholic and realised maybe that’s my answer. It’s not that I drank a lot, but I relied on it.

Alcohol might relax you temporarily, but it disrupts your sleep and makes you feel even rougher around the edges, especially when you wake to a small person jumping on you and yelling, “I’M a BABY LION!”

One afternoon, after a day of meltdowns because the pants had buttons instead of a zip, or the plate was the wrong colour, or because she couldn’t find the booger that came out of her nose, I was ready to scream.

"Can I still do the worm?"

Then, I remembered something: my old self.

I turned on ‘Kid’s Party Playlist’ on Spotify and cranked up the volume.

What followed was the greatest roundup of bangers I can recall hearing in a long time.

Gangnam Style followed Dance Monkey, and Dua Lipa’s Dance the Night came after Eiffel Tower 65’s Blue (Da Ba Dee). My self-conscious grooving turned into full-blown jumping around, with my kids’ energy fueling my own.

I started trying out dance moves. Can I still do the worm?

My kids were captivated, unsure of what to make of this display. Mum wasn’t fun; that was Dad’s domain.

Dance party at Cherie's! Image: supplied

"Dancing with others"

So this is what I've re-discovered: when we dance with others, a chemical reaction transforms into a collective feeling.

And it’s a better buzz than booze. It's cathartic. It's liberating.

And it's a way of speaking to each other without words. That's wonderful as a parent, when you’re mainly saying ‘stop’, ‘no’ and ‘please take your finger out of your sister’s nose’.

Dancing with my kids isn’t just about letting off steam; it’s a way of showing them love.

It’s my way of saying, “We’ve all had a full-on day and are borderline sick of each other, but let’s shake it off with Tay Tay because we’re all going to feel better about ourselves and each other than if Mummy reaches for the Prosecco.”