When you forget to take photos, just fake 'em in the airport!

Mums On Tour – Washington D.C

A couple of weekends ago was a momentous occasion for me…my first time away without the miniatures.  My partner in crime for the weekend was Margo.  In the words of Christina Yang, Margo is my (Canadian) person:

If I murdered someone, she's the person I'd call to help me drag the corpse across the living room floor. She's my person.

Image credit: Google Images

In typical, ‘mums on tour’ style, Margo and I arrived at the airport with three hours to spare.  We ate, drank and consumed way too much chocolate (no small person screaming like a banshee to share it!)

We were greeted by torrential rain in Washington but for once I didn’t give two hoots.  No mama panic alarms about snack quantities or journey delays – very refreshing!  When we finally arrived at our home away from home, courtesy of Margo’s friends Barbara and Sid, I was welcomed in with a large G&T and a friendly barrage of names and smiles.

I used to be pretty good with strangers but my social skills hadn’t been tested in about three years so I stumbled through, politely answering the usual questions with the finesse of a nervous cat on roller-skates.

More and more people arrived as the evening went on and I quickly realised that this was a pretty special home.  The line between friends and family was non-existent and as long as you had some banter, you were more than welcome!  The wine flowed, the G&Ts kept appearing and by 11pm the Millennials (possibly my favourite term for young’uns who are old enough to drink) had all absconded to their various house parties and party at a house (apparently there’s a difference?!).  It was at this point I should’ve stopped, but my inner drunk (who has lain dormant for many years) took charge and polished off another glass of whatever.

When my eyes peeled open the next morning at 5:30am my first thought was ‘wow, four hours straight sleep – get in!’.  The next thought was ‘sweet motherf****er, I am actually destroyed’.  On a scale of dead to ten, I was sitting around the two mark.  I scraped myself out of bed, and managed to reach a level three thanks to some tea tree shampoo and a very hot shower.

I went downstairs and flaked on the window seat. Margo found me an hour later, parched and dizzy and revived me with coffee just in time for me to fake humanity in front of my wonderful hosts.  In my still drunken stupor I boasted about my awesome mac ’n’ cheese skills and promised to make a batch for tonight’s meal (just a small gathering of 20 people).  Margo dragged me away before I could offer to origami-fold the napkins into working model butterflies.

My fine motor skills gradually came back throughout the day and by dinner time I had regained enough of my faculties to qualify as a level seven.  I knocked out a cracking mac ’n’ cheese (#boasting #sorrynotsorry), nursed a glass of white wine for two hours and watched the most boring game of Beer Pong I’ve ever seen.  By 10:30pm I (unsuccessfully) sloped off to bed and enjoyed SEVEN hours sleep.

Sunday was a relaxed day of mooching, shopping and melting in crazy humidity, finishing up with the best Chinese take out I’ve ever eaten (and out of those cool boxes with wire handles like on the Gilmore Girls!)

Gilmore Girls eat cool Chinese

Image credit: CNN/Netflix

Another early night rounded off a semi-rock and roll weekend of booze, banter and lovely people.  My single piece of advice to any mums gearing up for a kid-free weekend is to sauce up early doors then do NOTHING for the remainder of the trip!

Thank you Margo, Barbara, Sid et al – a perfect weekend away!


When you forget to take photos, just fake ’em in the airport!



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