We bet your Saturday night out doesn't look like this any more.

The game of a big night out has changed a great deal in recent years. Am I right?

Pre-game tactics. 

Then: Don’t let the name fool you, prior to having children a girls’ night out was actually an all day thing. Early nutrition was key, so coffee and brunch with a friend was probably mandatory, followed by an hour’s appointment at the hairdresser getting your do did.

Blow-dried to perfection, you might hit the shops to find some hideously expensive piece of Lycra for the drunken gentlemen to spill Jack Daniels over.

Dress resembling a belt purchased, you head home to pluck/shave/wax/scrub/bathe/moisturise/tan your toned healthy self and swan around in a bathrobe sipping champers while you meticulously apply smoky eyes and bronzed cheeks.

Now: Things are a lot different. Your day is spent in the usual manner – trying to prevent children from licking the walls, face-planting down stairs and eating couch lint.

At some point, you ate half a Vegemite sandwich one the kids left on the stairs. Hopefully, you saw it before the dog.

Around 3, you’re still covered in spew and avocado, and, with a baby dangling on your hip, you run slime-covered hands through your hair and peer into your wardrobe, hoping that J-Lo has magically swapped clothes with you for the night.

Instead your choice is this: pre-baby jeans held up with a hair elastic, or the dress you wore to your cousin’s wedding 3 years ago and may or may not still carry the stains of red wine, having been worn to the first event you drank at, post-feeding.

You go with the dress, which of course means you’ll require the help of Spanx. You’ll now spend the rest of the night feeling like a suction-packed ham and limiting drinks so you don’t have to ask a stranger to help you pull your pants off in the cubicle.

Forget the full-face of make-up, you rearrange your top-knot and smear on some lipgloss which kinda smells off – possibly one of the kids dropped it in the loo and didn’t tell you.

Spray some perfume on to cover-up the lingering notes of baby puke and you’re good to go.

The warm-up

Then: Taxis and pre-drinks drinking. Repeated checks in the mirror.

Now: Briefing the babysitter on which number to call in which particular crisis, and where the dog's heart medication is kept. Assure her that there is every likelihood your son will undress himself and when she walks in to check on him, he'll be totally starkers.

Attempt to leave the house without children dissolving into tears and making you feel like the worst mother in the world by putting them to bed yourself. Sing countless renditions of Let It Go and encase your child in 467 stuffed toys hoping they go the hell to sleep soon so you can leave.

Team chants. 

Then: Involved pep talks about approaching hot guys, repeatedly reassuring your girlfriends that they look exactly like Kylie in gold hot pants, and making promises not to drunk-dial booty-calls, should things go sour during the night.

Now: The phone is strictly reserved for repeated call-ins to the babysitter. Don't fret when you hear laughing and squeals, I'm sure its all fine, despite the fact they should have been asleep hours ago. Confirm with babysitter that the Nurofen is for the baby, and the tablets for the dog. Hope she was listening and not cracking into the good shiraz that you're sure you just heard opened in the background. Wait? Was that a guy's voice?!

Playing the field.

Then: Having the ability to gossip with your girls while checking out the evening's talent was a well-honed skill back in the day. You knew all about that b*tch in Bec's netball team, just as you knew all about buns of steel at the bar. Multi-tasking! You had fine-tuned your flirting skills to perfection. A hair-flick, a laugh, that hand on the arm thing that girls do. You had so much to talk to complete strangers about.

Now: These days you wonder what you would do if someone misread the neon "MUM!!" sign above your head and actually wanted a conversation with you. I'm sure your experience with baby-led weaning would be a great ice breaker. Or, maybe you could pull out your phone and show everyone pictures of your kids should conversation get tired. People without kids would love to see the 546 identical pics of baby Sam's first experience with pumpkin.

Nutrition and hydration.

Then: Kebabs and Vodka cranberries. Enough said.

Now: "If I have two wines by 8pm, I could drive but then if I stayed later I could probably have one more and then wait. But would I be able to feed the baby if he woke up? I hope he took to the bottle okay. Maybe I should just have one and see. Also, he has been getting gassy with a lot of wheat in my diet. Maybe I shouldn't have pizza. I really want pizza. Am I a bad mum if I eat pizza?"

Cool down.

Then: Oh how I loved sharing my views on the world with cabbies back in the day. From memory they loved it to. The way they kept talking on the phone to their friends while I was chatting about Sarah from work indicated that they understood the importance of the conversation, and wanted more people to hear my opinions. I always knew how to start it off too, "So... busy night?" Nailed it. I'm sure they never got asked that.

Fall in the door and aim for the the bed and deal with everything else tomorrow morning afternoon when you surface.

Now: Getting home is more subtle. Shhhhh!!!! Take those shoes off! You'll wake the baby. Just throw them to the back of the wardrobe, we all know it's gonna be at least another year before you bust out anything with a heel.

Lucky you drove tonight, that taxi line looked like a nightmare. Up here for thinking, lady. Geez, its 11 o'clock! I have to be up in a few hours. Although we do have the kids sport on. Should I just make up their lunches now? That would save time.  I think those two glasses of wine went to my head. Lucky, I can sleep in tomorrow morning... oh wait.

What do you miss most about having a girls' night pre-babies?

Want more? Try:

Words of wisdom from Bec Judd’s baby guru.

10 bad habits that parents need to stop doing now.