Slow Morning Recovery

Well, I was broken. I stayed in bed till 11:30am, leaving the kids to their iPads and snacks, only getting up to make them lunch. I slowly worked through the chores: dishwasher, kitchen, laundry – the usual. I was determined to preserve my energy, as I had plans later.

River entertained himself with Pop-up Pirate (with his coins, of course) and the Jenga dominoes. I tried to coax him outside but he wasn’t interested. Summer and I finally tracked down the “I miss my friend” clip he’s been repeating, it’s from a SpongeBob game where he loses his friend Gary. We asked him, “Did you lose Gary?” but he didn’t respond, just went back to, “I want to go home.” Another little script, maybe without meaning just yet.

Preparation Mode

By 4pm, I was fading again, even though I was due out at 5pm. Kike suggested a lie-down but there was no time. A good friend was babysitting and I always want everything ready to give River the best chance of a smooth evening.

So: pizzas cooked (his refrigerated, since he won’t eat warm food), fruit cut into the correct bowl, bedroom set with blackout sheet, sensory lights, correct bedding. Pyjamas laid out with “bedtime diaper.” Bottle made and hidden under a teatowel. iPads fully charged.

Not because my friend couldn’t cope, far from it, she raised four sons and is a brilliant teacher. But River thrives on predictability. If everything else is consistent, his night is calmer. And it worked, he had a good night.

A Night Out

So, where was I off to? A Will Smith concert. Cue the questions: “Will Smith? Is he acting?” “You’re seeing him do what?” But long before the films, Will Smith was a rapper and I was a big fan. A nostalgia night with our best friends.

We retreated to the bar area, found a chest to sit on and I cried with frustration. My one night out, my summer highlight and I was stuck at the back, hurting. But Kike and our friends were amazing: bringing drinks, lifting my mood, dancing with me in our little bubble.

Towards the end, a mix of wine and determination pushed me forward. I spotted a broad man in a Hawaiian shirt who parted the crowd with ease. I followed directly behind him until he disappeared into the gents but by then, I’d made it. I could see Will Smith. The last three songs, at least.

Reflection

I’m writing this the morning after, wearing my T-shirt, wondering: What could I have done differently? In my 20s, I always booked seats. If there weren’t seats, I’d stay near the bar and often someone would find me a stool. I used to joke I was “the mum with the bags.”

The truth is, I do so much preparation for River: his food, his bedtime, his routines, even a short walk to the shop but I didn’t do it for myself. I didn’t plan for my own limitations. I didn’t set realistic expectations for the night. I just wanted, for once, to go out without thinking, without the lists, without the careful scaffolding I build around River every day.

It wasn’t the night I imagined, but Kike and my friends made sure I still had a good one. And maybe that’s the most important thing.

Looking Ahead

Next time, I’ll try to prepare for me too. Book the seat, ask for the stool, plan the route and set the expectations. I can’t stop my body from being what it is but I can give it the same kindness and structure I give River every single day. Maybe then, nights out won’t feel like battles, they’ll feel like something I can truly enjoy. And even when I forget to make those preparations for myself, I’m grateful to have people around me who lift me up, carry me through and make sure I don’t miss out completely.