58. Irish Good Byes

I come home to find our daughter mid-tantrum. This, in itself isn't that surprising, except that she is now twenty years old! I thought we were done with tantrums. When do they stop being kids? Does this parenting business thing ever stop? Now I wish I had bought The Good Parenting Guide Volume 3 The Adult Child ... 

I mean, I can totally see why in the old days they'd marry them off to someone... I am aware that it is so wrong to think that in our day and age but, honestly! It is Friday night, we the exhausted parents just want to relax. My English husband, normally quite calm and patient, looks as if he is about to lose his temper. It's Friday night and on Friday nights we go for a drink. And this is just exactly what the problem is. He wants a drink. I want a drink. And our daughter wants us to drive her God knows where because she's had a drink. Or two.

What a family!

So SuperMum is on her way, ready to sort out the problem so she can go for a drink. After all, this may be the last one for a while ... This is not any Friday. This is the Friday before the Great Lockdown! 

The Great Lockdown means that the bunch of Irish students who came to my daughter's university for a three-month exchange programme are being sent back to their homeland. So now I remember the good bye party. They also wanted to enjoy a last drink before the bars shut (Everybody's in that same desperate rush, it makes me ponder about the human race really.) 

I had heard so much about this Irish gang over the last few weeks that I feel I know them. I feel as if I even know their parents. So I say to my daughter:

'If it is anything to do with this Irish gang of yours, please tell them your mother has had enough of them. Tell them they should be getting home to their own mothers.'

'No, it was not just the Irish ...'

I cut her off. And as I am starting to get angry, my voice is getting louder. 

'Stop telling me about the Irish! I have heard enough about the Irish. All I want to know is that they have packed their bags and are sitting somewhere in an airport on their way home. It was lovely to see them. But now they must go home.'

I can see my husband slowly making his way back to us, trying to eavesdrop discreetly.

'Mum! Will you listen to me instead of going on about things you don't know. We went out last night and I had some drinks with alcohol in them.'

'My goodness!'

'Mum, just stop it, will you. Listen to me! I need the car to go to this thing (I want to ask about the 'thing' but I don't) and dad doesn't want to drive me because he wants a drink! And you are just the same! I'm trying to be responsible here ...'

She goes on to tell me that they were up drinking till 3 AM and that she might still have 'alcohol in her system'. I want to laugh but I can see her father behind her and he looks as if he is under a state of shock. I wave him off back to the kitchen. Tricky situations are for us mothers to handle. 

'OK. Now I see.'

'Well, at least I am responsible. Please can you drive me?'

'No, I am not driving you. I am going out with you father (who by now really needs a drink) and you, my sweet daughter, are going next door.'

'Next door?'

'Yes, next door. The neighbours are bound to have a breathalyser under their sink. Go now.'

The urgency of the situation means that she does not argue with me. She does not even roll her eyes to the ceiling (I hide my disappointment). She goes next-door and comes back with the precious item on which the success or failure of our evening depends. She reads the instructions and I double-check fearing that she is too drunk to read properly. We both try to work out if positive means: yes you have alcohol in your system or: yes you can drive. We peer over the small print as if we are about to put together a piece of Ikea furniture.  

Finally, we get it: she is fit to drive. I have a quick thought for the poor Irish lads stuck in an airport somewhere. She leaves and my husband and I head off to the bar, happy as Larry as we can check out the new one that has just opened (talk about bad-timing) and make sure we are ready for The Great Lockdown of 2020. I am so pleased with my tactful handling of the situation that I feel I deserve the most expensive cocktail on their card.

And all is well that ends well! (😉 😊 to my Irish reader)