I’d like a social life too…

At 17 weeks pregnant, I am determined to cram in as much of a social life as possible. I am all too aware that come early December and (hopefully) the birth of our fourth babe, I will transform into a hormonal, exhausted and incomprehensible dragon. It may be some weeks or even months before I am able discover my inner party queen again.

However, already having a bundle of children has somewhat restricted our spontaneity. Not having any doting grandparents on our doorstep, our first task is to find and book a babysitter. We have recently moved and have been on the hunt again for the ultimate babysitter. In my view, the ultimate babysitter is someone who drives, totally adores your children, never insists on a home-time curfew and has no social life whatsoever! I have yet to find this person and when I do, I will never ever share their contact details!

The other main requirement is to ensure that all your children are in good health. I find it remarkable that children can time having temperatures and being ill with a parental social date on the calendar. Last Saturday my husband and I were invited to a friend’s for supper and, oh what a surprise, that same Saturday afternoon I was in our local NHS walk-in centre with our three year old to confirm she had tonsillitis.

On occasions when a social session beckons, the babysitter has arrived and all children are well, I refuse to feel guilty about going out even though our trio may try. My husband, Simon, seems to be allowed a social life, but I am expected to stay at home every single night. It continues to astound them that I may have a social life. When I try and justify that they all have massive social lives and I, as a fellow human being, would like to see my friends as well, it makes little difference.

On the run-up to going out, I am bombarded with questions: where are you going, who are you going with, what time will you be back, why can’t I go and only finally allowed to go after a few constricting hugs and just one last kiss. It is not that I am loved more (much as I’d like to be just a little tiny bit!) – it’s just the way it is.

Nevertheless, over the next four or so months I will savour all my evenings out – especially the ones when I am sober and smug enough to watch family and friends being tipsy and foolish and in store for a shocking hangover the following day. I will smile and think – hangover free is not such a bad place to be.

So if you are out for the night in the Devon area and see a brown-haired pregnant woman, it may just be me!