Today, The Unsung Mum is feeling pretty rad. She has managed to bag herself a ticket to the MAD awards and can’t bloody wait.
For anyone who is not a blogger, this is an award ceremony where all the cool cats get recognised for their hard work blah blah dedication blah blah.
After tricking her good-natured Mother in Law into having The Spratts overnight, The Unsung Mum picked up “Stunning Blogging Friend” (or MouseMoo&MeToo as her blog is called) and drove them frantically safely into the Big Smoke.
The Unsung Mum likes the Big Smoke. It’s the only place in the country that you can sit outside a cute little cake shop stuffing your face while drinking a cider at 11am while giving off the perfect illusion that you aren’t a raging alcoholic and can barely function.
The Unsung Mum has imagined this moment of freedom all week. It involves strutting into a large room of unknown people, all dressed in three-year-old fashions, like her, with windswept hair and vomit on their shoulder.
It’s probably for the best that they were all dressed up to the nines looking like supermodels, though, as everyone failed to notice the rusk stain on her dress and the fact that her bastard shoes didn’t do up properly.
Instead of shouting “fuck my life” and drinking heavily, which is of course how The Unsung Mum normally celebrates her own demise, she grabbed “The One”, her only drink for the night and sulked in the corner.
She felt a bit weird. Like she was stuck in a massive game of Guess Who.
The Unsung Mum and her Tribal friends are actually brainy and very cultured women (ahem) and The Unsung Mum is confident that their combined humour and cleverness will definitely help her get through the evening of ‘Guess That Blogger’, and it may even be fun.
After finding her table, the Tribal gang start to answer all the pesky little questions The Unsung Mum has. Like “Who’s that?”, “What programme is the host from again?” and “What is it I’m eating exactly?”
It’s possible that the answer to most of these things where “Don’t know, Ab Fab and meat, of some sort,” and in the event of anyone actually remembering she asked such stupid questions, everyone will be too shit faced to remember it in the morning anyway.
The Unsung Mum knows she will probably pay dearly for this spontaneous night out come tomorrow, but fuck it. Sometimes you’ve got to put your big girl pants on and remember you are actually a grown up woman who USED to talk to other grown up people fine, and are not just ‘Mum of Two: Contributor of Beige Food; Unreasonable Putter to Bedder, Finder of All Lost Things, and Lone Packer of the Overused Dishwasher.’
The Unsung Mum isn’t actually sure what to think, though. She feels a bit like Marty McFly in Back to the Future when his mum tries to kiss him at prom. Kind of overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at the same time.
Meeting some of the life-affirming and uplifting bloggers ALMOST makes The Unsung Mum nostalgic for her old baby group, where there are normally one or two other mothers like her with a ‘mum bun’, pyjama bottoms and an ill-fitting white t-shirt covered in stains; or a toddler to distract her by blowing their nose on her sleeve.
Nothing says love like bodily fluids after all.
After managing to not embarrass herself completely, The Unsung Mum decides to celebrate the next night with some friends.
The Unsung Mum is stupid. “Making up for last night,” should be banned. The Unsung Mum decides that it’s The Hubs fault she now has a hangover and has to look after her own children while dying.