This year one of my best friends of fifteen years is getting married. she's my fun friend, my party friend, the friend that I never meet for 'coffee' but the one that I have the most fantastic 5am wine fuelled memories with. The one that I went on girly holidays with and the one that I planned how to get out of sticky situations with.
So when she announced her engagement, my first question was, 'hen party??.' I was hoping to hear her hen party was going to take place in a fun and fabulous holiday destination, somewhere I could relive my pre-baby, carefree, girly holidays! So when I found out that Marbella was the destination of choice, I was not disappointed.
I am not however that single, carefree, twenty-something anymore, I have a whole suitcase full of mummy-guilt and four very valid little reasons not to go and enjoy what will probably be my only girly holiday of this decade; but I am also a very selfless and a very loyal friend and if the she wants me to jet off to Spain to spend three days dancing and drinking in the sun and leave my four little munchkins in the sole hands of Mr S, then I am prepared to put my own feelings aside and oblige.
So here our my top 5 reasons why us mummies should throw caution to the wind and join our friends on girly weekends away
The red carpet will be out on your return.
On the Friday morning your husband/partner/parent are going to get the children ready for the school run, they are going to be running on time and feeling quite smug, whilst wondering why you make so much fuss about this simple task. Once they get everyone into the car they will realise that someone has removed their underwear, someone has lost their shoe between the front door and the car, there is a peculiar smell of poo and the source is undetectable. They will be reminded that today is the deadline to hand in the twenty consent forms for school trips, the consent forms that have been eternally lost in the 'important paper drawer'. They will discover that the nine-year-old needs fifty-five pence for break time and he will not accept this in two pence pieces or a five-pound note, and the for year old needs her P.E kit, which will be half way through cycle twelve in the washing machine.
After dressing the children.... again, finding a shoe, changing a nappy , drafting their own consent forms, calling at the corner shop to buy another packet of mints for the bloody fifty-five pence change and convincing a screaming four-year-old that know one will notice when she puts on her brothers P.E kit that is five sizes to big. They will arrive at school five minutes late and be faced with the late register that offers a two centimetre space to explain the lateness, they will write, TRAFFIC, and then they will know why you drink wine. Throw in the chaos of the weekend that lies in front of them and on your return they will roll out the red carpet, fan you with ostrich feathers and beg you to never leave again. You will have gone from average mummy to Super Woman in seventy-two hours.
You will stick to your pre-holiday diet.
This is the one and only time you can guarantee that your going to give that bikini diet your best shot. Your best friend's other friends look like Kate Moss's younger sisters, you were kind of hoping that they had let themselves go after the last time you saw them and you could all stand together sporting your shapewear swimsuits with pride. No such luck! You have stalked their Facebook profiles since the news of the trip and these girls are serious, gym-going, hair-flowing, gorgeous model look-alikes. You are determined to get fit, you are going to give up Chinese take-away and buy yourself one of those snazzy cozzies, covered in holes, to pose in as you stand by the pool sipping a glass of prosecco.............oohhhh but that pie looks nice!
You're like Cinderella, you have to go!
Just like Cinderella put down her broom and went to the ball; you need to put down the hoover and the baby, pack a bag, put on some oversized sunglasses and get on a plane.
For three whole days there will be no washing, there will be no ironing, there will be no cooking, there will be no evenings spent looking for nits in your children's hair. There will be no disappearing favourite bear that needs to be found in order for you to actually sleep. There will be no sick or poo to clean up. There will not be one single bloody chore.
This is your time to shine, go and drink champagne in the sun and spend three glorious hangovers, chid free!
You will actually miss them and that's a good thing.
Although the idea of a childfree weekend sounds as pleasurable as bathing in pink Moet. The actual reality is you will probably start to miss your little munchkins as soon as you get into the car to leave for the airport. You will miss not checking that your baby is fastened into their seat properly, you will be crossing a road and miss not reaching down to grasp a little hand, you will walk past an ice-cream stand and miss the pleas and cries of delight. Their bedtime hour will creep up on you and while you're on your third cocktail you will be missing not being able to bathe them or put them to bed and you will be crying into your cosmopolitan at the thought of not reading them a bed time story. Your last day will be spent counting down the hours until you get to see them again.
No matter how much you moan about the constant routine of motherhood, a break is a great reality check to remind us how blessed we truly are.
When you are finally reunited with your little ones, there will be a blissful sixty minute reunion filled with kisses and cuddles and promises to never leave them again....until one of them breaks a bottle of your duty free and you make a mental note to start planning your next trip.
The No.1 reason to go away on a girly weekend......
The only bum you will be wiping for seventy-two hours will be your own!