Hen parties.. when you are a Mammy.

I’ve just been to a hen party at the¬†weekend. Oh gone are the days of the two day drinking sessions. Falling around lovely towns in middle Ireland and taking hungover or drunken boat trips or kayaking or paintballing. Dressing up in matching themed outfits and carrying a blow up man aptly named Dick.

As you get older and more and more people join the mammy tribe, hen parties start to take on a different colour. Here are some of the ways I find hen parties have matured to match¬†our.. um… mature ages.

  • Two hen’s were pregnant, so we had lots of talk about due dates, pregnancy symptoms and labour plans.
  • Two hen’s were breastfeeding so lots of talk about engorged boobs, leaking milk and breast pumps.
  • The activity was a quite sedate walk, which was very sensibly curtailed due to the rain.
  • Although penis straws were provided, not one Mammy actually used one.
  • What was originally planned to be a two day affair became a one day affair as the bride to be missed her little baby too much.
  • Meals, drinks, taxis, and accomodation were all organised and paid for in advance.
  • Nobody puked.
  • Presents for the bride to be included candles and bunting, not blow up dolls and garters.
  • Nobody had matching outfits, except coincidentally two hen’s had matching DKNY clutches.
  • Shots were replaced with glasses of water as the night progressed.
  • Everyone was bright eyed the next morning.

Becoming that “boring” Mammy


I am currently being frozen out by some of my college friends for missing a Christmas party. I also missed someone’s 30th birthday a few months ago. Both required a night away from my children. And guess what? I just didn’t want to go.

These same friends dragged me out to dinner before my baby was a month old “because it will be good for you”. I didn’t enjoy it, I didn’t want to leave my tiny bundle and drink glasses of wine and gossip. I had become a boring mammy.

To my friends:

Yes I have changed. My priorities have changed. I don’t want to drink all night and go to clubs. I’m not sorry about it, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. There is nothing wrong with me, I’m not depressed, I’m fully aware that other people with kids go out all night but I just don’t want to right now. I will again but bear with me while my babies are small.

I will meet you for coffee during the day, I will visit you at home. We can go for a walk in the park or stroll around town. I’ll even come without the kids if you want. I just don’t want to spend the night away from them. I don’t want them to look for me in the night and not find me there, I want to kiss them when they wake in the morning. I want to be boring and predictable to them.

I know other mums don’t mind leaving their kids, I know whatshername went and she has three kids. I don’t judge her in the slightest, but don’t judge me either. If my friendship with you is all on your terms then its not really a friendship. If I’m not fun because I’m not getting hammered like I did in college and chatting up guys with you then I guess I’m not fun anymore.

I want you in my life, but you will always come second to my children. I may not have crazy stories to tell you anymore but I will still listen to yours. You can ask about my kids if you want and I promise not to bore you. I might have changed my lifestyle but I still have the same sense of humour I always did, I still have thoughts and opinions, I still care about yours.

So, maybe I am that boring Mammy now, and if you don’t want anything to do with that, that’s ok. I haven’t been bored once since my babies were born, it’s the best relationship I’ve ever been in.