It’s Wine O’clock Somewhere

My neighbor/friend/comrade in overwhelmed parenthood-ness, likes to say, as the sun sets on our block, “it’s wine o’clock.” This is broadcast to me via a yell from down the street, a text message or a whisper accompanied by the removal of wine from her fridge and distribution into our glasses. For her, an appropriate wine glass. For me, a shot glass (or as she calls it, “a thimble”). I feel like a midget drinking from my tiny wares. But my petite frame renders me an undignified lightweight. Even though I only partake once in a while, those nights are a little mellower, a little funnier, a little closer to manageable. With a little imbibing our veils come off, I learn more about her wilder, thinner, more exciting days and she learns more about mine. It’s a bonding thing. So, why not drink more or at least more often? The truth is, I’m not sure why I don’t. My best guess at why I refrain from joining the masses of moms on the sauce, is my innate fear of diminishment by comparison. That’s a fancy way of saying, I don’t want stone cold reality to suck in comparison to having the edge off. I’m also quite the health nut and while studies have shown that both red and white wine are good for the heart, other studies have shown that one glass of wine a day can increase the risk of developing breast cancer. So, it’s kind of indiscernible whether that glass a day would do me better. I suppose the deal-breaker is recognizing that one glass rarely remains just a glass over time … I’ve noticed recently I’ve cruised through a few thimbles without noticing I’m getting buzzed until my brazen hurling of cuss words and sex stories are echoed back to me with, “mommy, I heard you say fuck!” There’s that stone cold reality I’m not so keen on. I can giggle about it but don’t want to add chronic drunkenness to the arsenal of bad mom citations my kids are piling up in case of future therapy. I’d love to know how other moms cope with drinking while parenting. We’ll save the discussion of mood altering drugs for a another day. So what’s up? Do you drink every day? Does it help? Does it hurt? Or are you just past giving a shit?

Oh, one last thing, this is a serious issue and a pretty prevalent one, so while humor is ALWAYS in order, it’s wise to look at the starker side too.

2 thoughts on “It’s Wine O’clock Somewhere

  1. Wine, cuss words and sex stories with a great neighbor got me through the first days of my separation and divorce. I didn’t do it every day, these days I rarely do it. It definitely numbed the pain and for that reason I refused to make a habit of it. My boys already had one parent who had fallen off the ledge mentally. I figured I owed it to them to not get myself lost in “the bottle” as my grandmother used to say.

    • I used to joke that I wished I could just become an alcoholic. Then later, when my kids are grown, I could twelve step and make amends and have my disease to blame for all of my dumb mistakes! I know, not funny! In reality, I made a conscious effort to stick to my thimble once or twice a week. “Wine, Cuss words and Sex stories” could make a nice title for something. 😉

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