8:30 pm: Consume a brick of fudge that was meant to feed entirety of party.
8:32 pm: Regret said consumption of fudge as right leg begins to twitch.
9:00 pm: Begin obligatory designated driver duties by picking up people from train station.
9:20 pm: After 21st person asks me how I’m feeling, animatedly fill them in on my constipation issues.
9:40 pm: Notice people have stopped talking to me.
10:00 pm: Sing a horrible karaoke rendition of “I’m So Excited” that I can’t blame on alcohol consumption.
10:30 pm: Have imaginary conversation with unborn child, where I remind her of all the sacrifices I made for her.
10:32 pm: Ask baby if she would mind if I had one teensy, tiny glass of wine. She responds by kneeing me in the spleen.
11:20 pm: Drunk acquaintance puts her hands on my stomach and swears she can feel baby kicking. I explain that, in fact, it is my foot kicking her, and not the fetus. She does not take hint.
11:45 pm: Fill my champagne glass with sparkling cider for the New Year’s toast.
11:46 pm: Secretly fill as many glasses as possible with sparkling cider so others will feel my sober pain.
12:00 am: As people scream “Happy New Year!” and blow on noisemakers and trumpets, unborn child recoils from noise by kicking her way through my ribcage.
12:20 am: Drop off people at train station. While waiting, notice a piece of fudge wedged in my cleavage, which I devour eagerly.
12:35 am: Fall asleep under a pile of coats.
2:20 am: Husband wakes me so I can drive us home.