New Year’s Eve With a Baby or Toddler: A Celebration of Pure Delusion

New Year’s Eve With a Baby or Toddler: A Celebration of Pure Delusion

New Year’s Eve. The night of sparkle, hope, and historically bad decisions.

Unless you have a baby or toddler — in which case it’s just Wednesday, but louder.

Step 1: The Lie We Tell Ourselves

Every parent enters NYE thinking:

“It’ll be quiet, but nice.”

No.
It will be loud, sticky, emotionally draining, and end before The Chase.

Somewhere between 4:30 and 5pm, your child will already be overtired, overstimulated, and furious that time continues to exist.

Step 2: The Outfit That Never Happens

You briefly consider dressing them up.

A tiny shirt! A bow! Something Instagrammable!

Instead:

• They remove it in 14 seconds

• Scream because the label looked at them

• End up in pyjamas they wore yesterday and possibly slept in

You are also in pyjamas. But you will pretend they are “loungewear.”

Step 3: Dinner Is a Hostile Negotiation

You plan party food.

Reality:

• Your toddler eats one chip, licks hummus, then cries because the plate is wrong

• Your baby throws food with the strength of someone who’s been lifting weights in secret

• You eat cold leftovers directly from the pan like a woman who has given up

You briefly remember a time when dinner was… enjoyable.
You mourn that.

Step 4: The Fake Countdown (A Parental Classic)

Around 6pm, you decide to “celebrate early.”

You shout:
“10! 9! 8!”

Your toddler responds by screaming “NO” and lying on the floor like a Victorian child with scurvy.

The baby:

• Doesn’t care

• Never cared

• Will never care

You cheer anyway, because at this point the bar for joy is very low.

Step 5: Bath Time Rave

Bath time becomes a nightclub:

• Water everywhere

• One naked human running for freedom

• Someone pees

You’re sweating, whispering:
“Please just sleep. I promise I’ll be a better mum next year. I won’t even swear”

You will swear............. A lot.

Step 6: Bedtime: The Final Betrayal

You think:

“Once they’re asleep, I can relax.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

They sense hope.

Suddenly:

• The baby won’t sleep unless held like a fragile Victorian heir

• The toddler needs water, hugs, the other blanket, and to discuss life choices

• Someone screams because their foot feels “too footy”

By the time they’re asleep, it’s 7:58pm and you feel like you’ve run a marathon while being emotionally attacked.

Step 7: The Adult “Party”

You sit on the sofa.
You open prosecco.
You take two sips.

Then you realise:

• Alcohol will make tomorrow worse

• Midnight is a myth

• You actually want toast and silence

Your partner says:
“Should we try to stay up?”

You stare at them with the dead eyes of someone who has wiped another human’s bum all day.

Midnight (Allegedly)

You do not see midnight.

You wake briefly to fireworks, panic that the baby is awake, then immediately fall back asleep.

This is self-care now.

New Year’s Day: No Mercy

Your child wakes up at the usual time because time means nothing to them.

They are refreshed.
You are a shell.

There is no “new year energy.”
There is only:

• Snacks

• Cartoons

• Wondering how people voluntarily have more children

The Resolution We Don’t Say Out Loud

This year, I resolve to:

• Stop pretending this is magical all the time

• Accept that survival counts

• Celebrate the fact that everyone is alive

Because if you made it through New Year’s Eve with a baby or toddler — congratulations.

You didn’t miss the party.

You are the party.

It’s just sticky, loud, ends at 8pm, and someone definitely cried.

Happy New Year, parents🥂

HUSH LITTLE BABE