When I was a whipper-snapper,
The Hangover did not phase,
IF one should occur,
Just in bed I would laze.
I’d drink Lucazade and order a tonne of junk food,
Slowly but surely lifting my delicate mood.
But this morning I am a parent,
And I hear that high-pitched sound,
Of my children crying out for me
And my head begins to pound.
One gets an I-pad and the other gets a dummy,
And I pray please do not let them need their mummy.
In bed I lie- eyes shut to stop the room from spinning.
FUCK toddlers here standing next to my bed and singing.
What does he want? I need to face my duty.
Doubt he’ll be up for a real-life Sleeping Beauty.
The headache and queasy feeling will last all day- I know it.
Time to step up and snap out of it.
I really cannot show it.
Every time this happens I swear I’m never drinking again.
But we all know this is bullshit-
Next time will be the same.
When the drinks are flowing I just can’t refrain.
Maybe grandparents are free to come and ease my pain?
So I’ll struggle on and get through this day.
There simply is no other way.
They will take full advantage of their weak and fragile Mum.
They can play with anything they want today.
JUST NOT THAT SODDING DRUM.