Am I tough or is he a wuss?

So, Friday night I had my work Christmas party.  We had drinks in the office, then headed to a pub in Circular Quay for a couple more, before jumping on our boat ride across to Chowder Bay to the spectacular Sergeants Mess.  It was a brilliant night, great food, fantastic wines, and awesome people to chat and mingle with all night. I truly had a fab night which absolutely flew.  The night was just a blur... not in a I'm so drunk I can't see straight blur (although those 25,000 champers may have contributed to the speediness of the evening)! It all went so quick, and before we knew it, my lift home was there, the ugly lights had been switched on and people were stumbling out the doors. 

Come Saturday morning... oh goodness, shoot me now. My head was spinning, but it wasn't stopping one weeny boy waking up early and calling out for his mummy who hadn't been there to tuck him in the night before.  It was 6:30-ish and I was up.  I looked atrocious... and that fully backcombed stylish up-do I'd sported the night before looked like a big knotty, frizzy nightmare.  I got through the morning better after a cold shower and the big greasy bacon & egg roll my hubby generously cooked for me.  Coffee was my friend.

After an earlier than normal lunch, I whisked Dylan off for his nap, and took full advantage of the peace and quiet.  Close to 2 hours later, my nap was over, Dylan was up, and I felt slightly more refreshed.  The afternoon continued with the usual boring chores that need to be done, with a toddler clinging to you.

And then it was hubby's turn for a night out.  We dropped him off at the pub to have a long overdue catch up with 3 of his old high school friends.  I got Dylan off to bed early so I could settle in with a movie and get some much needed sleep. 

Sunday morning arrives... Dylan sleeps in, til just before 8am.  I am up. Hubby is moaning. I start getting breakfast ready and decide to make a yummy mango smoothie and a bowl of sliced watermelon.  Hubby drags himself to the kitchen, probably to see what the racket is all about.  He tries the mango smoothie and decides it's not for him... 5 minutes later his stomach decides to reject some of the big night out's contents.  And again 30 minutes later.  In between sleeping on the lounge, moaning, and making trips to the bathroom, there's no time for parenting one weeny boy.  Why is that?  The entire day was spent napping.  When I asked why I still had to do everything on Saturday with my hangover, yet he couldn't get off his butt once, he reminded me that he had cooked me breakfast.  So I hadn't done EVERYTHING, I should really try not to exaggerate! 

Sorry hubby, you are a big wuss with your hangover. Moaning and groaning. Sleeping ALL DAY!  Parenting goes on regardless of how much you've had to drink.  I'm just glad those work Christmas parties are once a year.  I don't think I could handle them any more frequent than that!

Bel