SO, we’ve decided to go out. It was Better Half’s idea and we’re not going far. But we are going – just the two of us, for the first time… without the wee man. Even writing that sentence, my heart is pounding slightly and I feel a bit nervous. My brain goes in to over drive. What if he wakes up and screams and the babysitter can’t comfort him? What if the babysitter is deaf and can’t hear him screaming and he gets so agitated he hurts himself? What if the babysitter falls asleep? or has the tv on too loud? What if he needs to go to hospital and the babysitter can’t drive? WHat if the babysitter can drive but doesn’t have a car seat in the car? What if she drives like a loonie? What if A&E is overcrowded and there are no doctors who can see him? What if its meningitis? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I can’t go.

I can go. I need to stop being ridiculous. It’s only the pub in the next village. It’s less than a mile. We’re driving so we can get home if we need to. I’m not drinking. This is probably a mistake because I’ll mainline Coke (the drink, not the drug) all night and end up bouncing off the walls AND paranoid. Awesome combination.

So we put the wee man to bed and then wait 45 minutes in case he wakes up again. He doesn’t. We write down our mobile phone numbers in big simple numbers, as well as the pub phone number, and the name of it’s landlord and leave them one of the pubs business cards so they know the address and what it looks like if they have to drive there in the dark. And we tell the baby sitter how to work the sterilising machine, the bottle warmer, the dvd player, the sky box, the kettle, the baby monitor; how to lock the back and front doors; how to unlock the back and front doors; where the teabags, milk, sugar are kept; who our neighbours are; and on and on until she looks at us with cross eyes.

And then we leave the house. And leave our darling tiny bundle with the first aid qualified, non deaf, insomniac babysitter with the clean driving license and the baby seat. To be continued….

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