As I sit here unable to move (aside from the slow, steady, bicep curl that accompanies my wine) and slowly melt into the sofa to watch missed episodes of Vinyl, I find myself reminiscing about long weekends past. In fact, I’m a tad sentimental. Might be the red. Might be the show.

Remember? Those long weekends when you were childless and in your late twenties, early thirties? When Easter weekend just meant finding the biggest and best parties, and having two carte-blanche days of recovery time? The cosmic irony of course being, that I actually had the balls to complain about these weekends being”too short”. If only I had known then how much time I ACTUALLY had.

FOUR DAYS. 96 hours of free time. Let’s all take a moment to reflect.

So, I thought, as a fun exercise to my migraine blurred mind, I’d playfully recite the before and afters of a long weekend sans and avec child to my husband, who quickly sank into a deep melancholy.  I then decided to write it out so you too, can participate in this throwback of youth and inconsequential decision making.

Well, last night was fucking awesome. Went to a crazy party that climaxed at 4am (because the city hands out extended licenses like junk mail), followed by an after party until later that morning. Around 11am, I make an attempt at human life, but only because I’m starving and need immediate carbs to live. Take-out, three pots of coffee, and a whole afternoon spent under the blanky later, I debate whether I should rally for tonight. Obviously, I do… I have 3 more days left to my weekend!
Truth: I actually left the house party that morning when people were coming out of their homes with dogs and strollers. It feels terrible and awkward, but I now know they were probably like “oh man… remember those days?!” in the same nostalgic tone I have now.

– AFTER – 
Friday? Just like every other fucking day, except I don’t have my nanny.WHY IS EVERYTHING CLOSED?! I mean, I know WHY, but this is so super annoying cause we are deathly close to running out of diapers (our size was cleared last time due to a diaper sale) and I’m consolidating any singles from all over the house. My day kicked off at a ripe 6:30am, and we’ve been gunning it since then with last minute Easter preparations and making sure the house looks like a cover of House & Home. By spawns 12:30pm nap time, I’m half in the bag. (This, by the way, is about the time moms start drinking and it’s totally acceptable when you’ve already completed a 6 hour shift.) A short hour later, we’re greeted by visitors and spend the rest of the day over-eating and over-drinking, while I try to simultaneously tidy up with a midget human wrapped around my leg. At 8pm, I’m fucking dead and actually wonder how I ever used to leave the house at 11:30pm. How EVEN??!! We manage to get everyone out by 10pm, and hit the sack.

Shit, why am I hungover AGAIN?! I really sucked at following my own rules of taking it a little easy last night, but whatever. All I gotta do today is get to my in-laws by late afternoon and eat. Perfect. *Rolls joint*

OH, HELLO 6:30am. We meet again. I’m aiming to get laundry out of the way before breakfast and leave the house with minimal tantrums to get some pastry, fruit, and maybe even flowers if we’re really trying to pull our shit together.  The family is in town and we need to make the time count. The rest of the day is just going through the motions: Eat, talk, clean, unhinge child, hug, wipe tears, put down, eat, clean, do something mildly entertaining (like go around the corner to the playground) and count down the minutes ’til bed time.
BUT WAIT! IT’S A NIGHT OUT! Heeeeyyyyyy. Mama is getting out of her shackles to take her lovely visitors out for a night on the town! Getting ready over here like: 10 minutes, one shot of wine and a break out before the kid even has a chance to turn over into slumber.


OMG I feel SOOOO amazing. I didn’t go out last night and just slept for like, 12 hours. “What do you wanna do babe? Should we go have brunch and then see our parents for a bit? We gotta go check out that epic Sunday Long Weekend jam that *insert massive DJ* is playing.” We continue to be sloths for the remainder of the day, the only goal being to stuff face, and then head home to start getting ready. And by ready I mean: drink wine at a leisurely pace, talk to three different people, apply makeup like they tell you to in Allure, and have 4-6 outfit changes.

– AFTER – 
OMG KILL ME. We had WAY too much to drink last night over dinner and now I want to throw up all over 6:30’s face. (Us mama’s can sometimes overdo it when we finally get out of the house – it’s like watching some freak competition of who can down more alcohol in less time). Although I got home at 1am, I couldn’t sleep from the exhilaration alone and got a solid two and a half. Now it’s time to get going and spiffy up the prince (who’s running on 11 hours of sleep) to see the WHOLE family over Easter Lunch.  Apparently, now we hide Easter eggs around the house, and I’m just pointing like “hey, buddy, check here”, wishing for it all to end.  The major perk though, is that after we pig out and stare blankly at each other across the table – my husband and I do a sneak away for a nap in the basement while the star of the show entertains the masses upstairs. This 20 min break marks the ultimate luxury moment of the weekend. Note: I don’t actually nap.


What an amazing fucking party! ONE FOR THE BOOKS! (p.s. where are these books, btw, because all those parties really start to blur when you’re in your mid thirties and low on sleep). I can’t believe it’s Monday already, ughhh – and we have to go back to work tomorrow. This is so depressing, I think I’ll just sit here and overdose on reality TV and Easter leftovers. *Rolls joint*

– AFTER – 
God, I can’t wait until the nanny is back tomorrow, I just wanna sit. Gotta make one more family go of it to see the clan before they head back, do some variation of all the above days, and crawl back into my anti-social hole. The last three hours of the day (AKA prime time) are dedicated to catching up on emails, making to do lists, cooking impending lunches/dinners and making sure Tuesday goes off without a glitch – who has time to waste right? I take a moment to roll a j and do 10 minutes of yoga. Because fuck.

So, fellow Rebels, HAPPY EASTER. However you spent the long weekend (I’m looking jealously over at you – friends with no kids), I hope a small part of you enjoyed it. While in the thick of things, it can be hard to remember that we are actually making some good ol’ childhood memories over here; even in those moments where your head is about to explode and you’re wishing back all those days you sat curled up next to a box of Swiss Chalet without shit to do. Those days may be gone sister, but you’re curled up to better things now.

They say “although the days are long, the years are short” and what seem to be the EXTRA. LONGEST. WEEKENDS. EVER with kids, they are still fleeting and one day you may find yourself wishing those back too. No seriously, you might.

xx A

Connect @aleksjassem on Twitter & Instagram






One Comment Add yours

  1. Jen Kyer says:

    I’m laughing to keep the tears from coming. It’s so so true. I feel this insane need to warn all my childless friends and family to take full advantage of their unplanned, glorious lazy free time. I wish a haggard ass mom ran up to me eyes wild, warning me to get that damn pedicure, take that extra shot and sleep in all day with your boyfriend because I sure missed opportunities I won’t get back until I have grandkids to watch I’m sure. Thanks for the laugh sister.


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