Romantic mini break for…three

Lucy Onan-Read - 1 Jan 16

Every year since meeting my husband, in those no mans land days where you don’t know what day of the week it is between Christmas and New Year instead of sitting around eating coronation turkey sandwiches surrounded by piles of presents, we ‘escape’ to some fabulous boutique hotel for a couple of days to indulge some much need r and r and to get over the stress of hosting Christmas and prepare for New Year. We were that annoying couple who book last minute, throw a couple of things in an overnight bag, jump into our sporty little automobile and hit the road. My husband is a self confessed hotel snob so if Mr & Mrs Smith recommend it then chances are we’ve tried it. Oxford, Bath, The Lakes, Cheltenham we’ve done them all and more. We call it our tradition and this year why break the habit?  Enter Arthur….

Ten weeks old ago we welcomed our beloved firstborn son into the world and life really hasn’t been the same since. In nearly every single way its been better but from a sleep point of view so much worse. We vowed to be the kind of parents who just get on with life though rather than tiptoeing around the baby’s routines so after a very brief thought in the back of my brain about Arthur having his first sleepover with Grandma it was decided that this years romantic mini break was going to be for three.

Destination Cambridge. Weather wild, wet and windy. Preparation and packing, none.

Waking from what can be described as a good nights sleep bestowed upon us by Arthur (11pm -6am) storm Frank had arrived in our village with a vengeance. ‘Should we cancel?’ we both wondered as wind and rain battered the windows and neither of us dared to take the dogs into the woods behind the house for fear of falling trees. Putting all our faith in the weather app on my phone and on the basis that the baby would be safe on the motorway as to quote my husband, ‘It isn’t has if he is driving the car’ we decided that we would make the trip and thus not kiss goodbye to the not insignificant amount of money we’d eagerly shelled out just the night before for our larger than average hotel room for three.

Twenty eight of Pampers best is not the underwear my husband envisioned me packing into the large suitcase that we hauled out of the loft, nobody was joking when they told us babies don’t travel light. Our old overnight bag would barely have housed his spare outfits.

We’ll probably head off about 10.30am we had thought, thinking we could take it slow because of the weather and arrive in time to grab a late lunch and check in to the hotel. By 12pm I’m still packing for Arthur. At this point my mind strayed momentarily from the task in hand to what I would take to wear myself. A slinky dress maybe? Jeans, heels and a silk shirt? In the end I threw a spare pair of jeans in and a couple of jumpers. It seems that I can remember baby items right down to a syringe just on the off chance he should happen to need any calpol but I can’t remember to pack my own underwear…Cue an emergency dash to buy some knickers in Cambridge before the shops shut.

Before giving birth I naturally assumed I would in fact put the yummy into mummy. I managed to remain fairly stylish throughout my pregnancy only giving into the dreaded leggings in the last couple of weeks, I even made an appearance in my beloved sky high Jimmy Choo’s at my 30th birthday party 36 weeks pregnant. I was deluded. On a good day now the best look I can hope for is ‘chubby scarecrow’ (In leggings). The signature piece in my winter wardrobe this year is ‘stained sweater’. The baby meanwhile looks like he just stepped out of the Little White Company catalogue.

At this point I’d like to congratulate Audi on the size of their back seats. As we waved goodbye to our sporty two door number and took delivery of a very nice but boring estate we clearly didn’t appreciate that having a back seat big enough to fit in a baby seat, a changing mat and myself would come in handy when halfway to Cambridge and nowhere near a services, our bickering about who forgot the baby car seat hood was rudely interrupted by a nappy being filled with a horrendous amount of poo. Twice…..

I won’t pretend that Arthur took in the sights of Cambridge with enthusiasm. Apart from coming alive every time his sniffer dog sensitive nose alerted him to the fact we were about to eat a meal he mainly slept. His behaviour was pretty outstanding for someone of only ten weeks apart from one incident at breakfast where the twenty-something childless couple on the table next to us who were trying to discuss their upcoming wedding started frantically looking around for a different table. ‘This will be you in a couple of years’ I wanted to yell at them. That used to be us.

The hotel boasted a luxury spa complex which usually we would have taken full advantage of, but not wanting to make an entrance in my very fetching one piece floral maternity swimsuit which unsurprisingly I forgot to pack and the fact that even in his ‘happy nappy’ Arthur wasn’t welcome meant we didn’t even venture in the direction of the infinity Jacuzzi. To credit my lovely husband he did suggest I book in for a relaxing massage but how relaxed can someone who is lying there wondering what is going on with the baby actually get? I didn’t bother in the end.

Cambridge is a truly stunning city, we wandered round pushing our pram in absolute awe of the architecture and the shopping was fantastic. Well the couple of shops we managed to manoeuvre the pram into were great. Now I have this hulking all singing, all dancing, all terrain pram I’ve noticed steps seem to appear in places I never knew they existed. To top it off if I was as bad at driving my car as I am at driving the pram I’d probably have lost my licence by now. As a result I’m a huge fan of the baby carrier.

Driving home Arthur slept until we passed the last possible stopping services before waking up to loudly demand milk. We couldn’t help but discuss the trip and how different it had been with the baby in tow. Different is good. Rather than spending the whole time drinking wine in fancy bars we definitely walked around more and thus saw more of the sights. We ate, drank and went to bed early, waking hangover free to enjoy the day instead of rolling out of bed feeling rotten and realising we’ve missed breakfast.

As I said before Cambridge is a delight and should Arthur be clever and lucky enough to go to university there then we’d definitely be those annoying parents who visit. Making memories with my little family is the most precious thing and I treasured every minute of this trip but secretly a tiny bit of me is still wondering how old Arthur needs to be before he has his first sleepover with Grandma….

Lucy Onan-Read

Lucy Onan-Read - Actual Cheshire housewife, just hit the big 3 0 and welcomed Arthur O-R into the world in October 2015. Trying to finish my first book. Mainly fuelled by energy drinks, NZ Sauvignon Blanc and Cheese. All thoughts, opinions, random musings and statements are my own and are not meant to influence or offend. Looking forward to connecting with other Selfish Mothers...!

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