Too Old for Nightclubs, Too Young to Be Called “Duck”

The Calm Before the Duck

It’s day five of my break from writing. At 2:30 p.m., I start to hear those familiar stirs on the baby monitor that tell me my son is about to wake up. And, just like clockwork, I have this urge to start writing again.

But what do I write about?

I have nothing.

My best friend was visiting, and I had my first night out in about six months last week. I was super excited to have some drinks and hit a nightclub.

Of course, I woke up with a sore throat on the day of my big night.

The dinner drinks were fun.

Then I had a burger and felt bloated and gassy.

We walked fifteen minutes in the rain to get to the club, where I had a cider and started yawning.

We decided to switch it up to some vodka Red Bulls. I was feeling good again.

Then someone approached us and said, “How old are you ducks?” We spoke to him for a bit, and after he left, we spent about five minutes trying to convince each other how cool we still were.

I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of being uncool, and I’m not even sure if it’s cool to use the word “cool” anymore.

The night continued with a string of disappointments, ending with the 24-hour McDonald’s not serving food on our way back to the hotel.

I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to hit the pillow. I took some ibuprofen, had a Powerade and ate my cold, second-rate Hungry Jack’s (that’s Burger King for my international friends). I felt like I’d done everything in my power to avoid the next-day hangover.

But I forgot one thing. The most important thing.

I didn’t sleep.

I lay down and listened to the gentle hum of the air conditioner filling the room, until my thoughts came crashing over it. I tossed and turned, got up multiple times to pee, and then panicked about how I was going to be a parent on zero sleep the next day. This then resulted in a vicious cycle, stressing about not sleeping, and then not sleeping due to the stress.

The other worry running through my mind while I was sprawled in that tiny bed, eyes scrunched shut trying to force sleep, was: how am I going to come up with anything creative to write this week while trying to recover from missing a night’s sleep and a possible sore-throat illness?

In the early morning light of that hotel room, the thought of actually trying to write anything seemed daunting. I didn’t even know where to begin.

I waited for my friend, who was sleeping peacefully, to wake up. We got some food and caught the train back home.

Somehow, I did survive that day.

Sunday wasn’t too bad either, but it was my last day with my friend, so that always helps.

She flew home Sunday night.

Day One: Time to close the laptop

I woke up Monday morning feeling exhausted, and the sore throat I’d had since Friday was now feeling angry and swollen. I had to wrangle a toddler to swimming lessons at 8:30 a.m., and I just wasn’t feeling it.

It was at that point I decided I needed a break. Since I can’t take a break from parenting, it would have to be from writing.

I was relieved with my decision. When you’re feeling tired and run-down, even keeping up with something you love, like writing, can become a chore in itself.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve set these unwritten rules for myself that I need to post three stories a week. I’m not sure when it started, but at some point, I decided it was something I had to do to keep up and stay relevant.

It’s a strange pressure I’ve put on myself, which makes no sense. I feel like if I miss a week, I’m letting myself down.

It was definitely time for a break.

So, instead of writing, I spent my time over the next few days watching all six Scream movies — revision for Scream VII coming out in February.

Day Two: Terrible snack choices

I was still feeling very average, and I was starting to suspect my son wasn’t feeling great either. I decided we’d just go to the local shopping centre for a walk around. As I was packing the morning snacks, I debated about whether to take chocolate pikelets or muffins. I wrongly chose muffins and then had to deal with an upset toddler when he asked for chocolate pikelets and I didn’t have any.

It's such a simple thing, but when you’re having a bad day, the right snack choice can make a huge difference, especially if it means one less tantrum.

All in all, I was still very happy that I had taken the pressure off myself and didn’t have to think about writing on this terrible Tuesday.

Day Three: Some birthday inspiration

I felt well enough to agree to dinner plans made by my book club group for Saturday night. My son was at daycare, so I even wrote a birthday poem for my husband and caught up on some of my Vocal reading. I know I said I was taking a break, but I just can’t help myself.

My poem ended up getting Top Story, proof that even a few light steps can be a satisfying journey.

Day Four: To daycare, or not to daycare?

Day four started off a bit rough. I’d had a terrible sleep, mainly because I was sick, but my son had started coughing all night as well. He woke up, ate all his breakfast, and despite being a bit grizzly, didn’t have a temperature. Without any obvious signs of illness, I had to wrestle my internal monologue.

Was he okay?

Could he go to daycare?

Was I being a terrible parent if I sent him?

Spoiler alert: I did take him to daycare. He was fine and had a great day. I spent the day on the lounge continuing my Scream marathon and avoiding writing.

Day Five: A tiny creative spark

I still wasn’t really feeling it yet, and I was starting to hatch my escape plan to get out of my Saturday dinner.

But something magical did happen. I started feeling like I wanted to write again. I didn’t know where to start; I just knew I needed to write something.

So, I did what many writers before me have done. With my iced latte in hand, frozen cubes gently clinking against the glass, I opened my laptop and, fingers softly clicking on the keys, wrote about having absolutely nothing to say.

I felt very rusty. I didn’t like anything I wrote. I doubted myself and over-analysed everything. Then I reminded myself that I’m still technically on a break, and I need to be kind. I can slowly work my way back to putting words back on the page.

With that gentle reminder, I closed my laptop again and waddled off to binge-watch Scream: The TV Series. 🦆