If the kids are home, I’m technically not drinking alone, right?

There are days and then there are DAYS! On these DAYS, if Larry walks in the door from work and tries to make small talk, as in a pleasantly curious, “What did you do today?” I will growl back, “The only thing you should be asking me is ‘red or white?!” I take pathetic pride in waiting to pour the nightly medication until I have someone to drink with. After all, if you drink alone, you have a problem, right?

There are days a glass of wine doesn’t occur to me until nightfall. There are days when I consider putting Chardonnay in my Cheerios. There is an inverse relationship between the number of times I hear “Mommeeee” and my willpower. I know I’m not alone. Friends, sisters and moms at the playground commiserate to remind me we are all in the same rocky, thirsty boat. Many of us are looking forward to our generation’s version of “Mother’s little helper”. We’ve abandoned the pill bottle for the wine bottle.

As a rule, I avoid talking about motherhood as a job, but this doesn’t mean it is easy. While kids are wonderful and are a blessing and blah, blah, blah, they can grate on your nerves like a jackhammer hitting steel. Combine this with their schedules and their constant needs and there are times, I end up feeling like my skin is bristling just to be near them. Something to soften the edges is just what the doctor (that doctor being me) ordered. I want to be a patient and interested mom, so oft times, when the driving is done and the homework is not too challenging, I take a deep breath and count the seconds until my husband, more importantly, my drinking buddy comes home.

But, it occurs to me … if my kids are in the house, I am not technically alone. “Sweetie, put down your crayon and fetch Mummy the corkscrew.”

First published July 2013

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