Apologies for the constant reference to the new addition to my family, but she is my life right now. Since Lily was born, I became (all at the same time) babysitter, washerwoman, cleaner and general dogsbody, whilst getting paid virtually nothing (SMP is pretty shoddy). Simultaneously, I have been attempting to tone up my sadly neglected body and maintain my relationship with baby’s father, which has most definitely been put on the backburner since her arrival. And I’m not just referring to sex – we have barely spoken in weeks. This has not been through want of trying, or because we hate each other, but because any exchanges that have occurred between us have generally taken place as we run between rooms clutching dirty nappies/armfuls of laundry/a baby/a dog/our dinner, or as we lie comatose in bed, relishing in the silence and the lack of demands that are being placed upon us. Neither scenario is supportive of a healthy, vigorous sex life.
In order to combat this situation, it struck me that what might have been nice (in another life), would be to get the baby in bed, crack open a bottle of Merlot and snuggle up on the settee to watch a DVD. This is not an option, due to one shared bottle of Merlot inevitably leading to another one, maybe two, followed by a quick scouring of the kitchen cupboards to seek out any remnants of old liqueurs and spirits that might be lurking, left over from parties and the occasional foray into a Nigella or Jamie book. After necking all available booze on the premises, the CD collection would get a good thrashing, I would dance, raver-circa-1990 style around the living room before crashing out on the settee about three am and waking up with the most horrific hangover, only to find myself back in the real world of babysitter/washerwoman/etc (please refer to the above paragraph).
My other half goes out once a week, and imbibes a bit of alcohol. I don’t grumble about this but do insist that he sleeps in the spare room on his return, due to excess beer-drinking causing him to snore like a sleeping troll. But we do not drink together, and I miss it. When the daily grind and stresses come to a close early evening, it cannot be denied that one of life’s pleasures is the sharing of a quality bottle of wine with one’s loved one, often leading to one of life’s other pleasures, the sharing of each other’s bodies in the sack. Somehow, a pot of tea and several McVitie’s Boasters don’t have quite the same effect.
Drinking alcohol is a fast-track way to relaxation and when time is at a premium, fast-track is what is called for. I also used to drink (too much) because booze has a wonderful way of instantly making me feel more sexy, interesting and fun. And let’s face it, when you’re slobbing in front of the TV in your trackies, biscuit in hand and crumbs down your top, you need all the help you can get in that department. And so it has dawned on me that whereas, for some people, alcohol provides an easy route to relaxation, I need to draw on other methods. Maybe some sexy underwear, a massage and an early night together would do the trick. One thing I do know, there is nothing sexy about a thirty-something mother of two dancing on the coffee table to ‘Firestarter’ before throwing up on the carpet. Yes, that once was me…