The Best Reason to Never Drink Again (And 10 Reasons Why I Probably Will)

I’ve decided to let you in on an embarrassing little secret.  Basically, I’m sacrificing my dignity for the sake of a good blog.  I really hope you appreciate it.

One night, about six weeks ago, I tripped and landed directly on my face.  This unfortunate occurrence resulted in three broken teeth, six stitches in my lip, bruises all over my face, several thousand dollars worth of dental work, a very long night in the ER, and a partridge in a pear tree.

To say it sucked would be the understatement of the century.

I’d love to tell you that this little stumble, or “The Face Plant”, as I now lovingly refer to it, was the cause of mere klutziness, or a randomly placed Barbie doll, or maybe a little poor coordination.  But the fact is, a sober person just doesn’t plant their face in ceramic tile for no good reason.

You guessed it.  Alcohol.

(Wow.  I really have no shame.  I SWORE I wouldn’t blog about this after it happened.  I mean, does it even get more embarrassing???  I need to have a little talk with myself about personal discretion.)

Of all the insanely drunken nights I’ve spent in my life, THIS is the one that finally landed me in the ER?? Of all the vodkabeerwinetequilawhiskey-fueled nights that occupied my early twenties, when I would often drink with reckless abandon, like an alcoholic on Saint Patrick’s Day at a bar where all the drinks are free…..  Back then, I would always escape my drunken escapades relatively unscathed, with nothing more than a half-day’s worth of a hangover and the nagging feeling that I might have made a jackass of myself the night before.

But nope.  THIS particular night had to be the one that ended in total disaster.  This relatively uneventful date night between the hubster and me, wherein I innocently mixed liquors and forgot that a little thing called “alcohol tolerance” no longer exists in my world.

Understandably, after that unpleasant experience, I decided that I should never drink again.

“I’m never drinking again.” It’s a decision we’ve all made at one time or other.  Typically, it’s made in between dry heaves while at the mercy of a toilet bowl, and not on a hospital gurney while being wheeled in for a CT scan, but either way.  We’ve all sworn off booze at least once in our lives.

But this time, I meant it.  I mean, I really freaking meant it.  Who in their right mind would ever take so much as a SIP of alcohol after something like that??

**Points two thumbs at chest**

This girl.

I’m really an idiot.

I will never MIX alcohol again. That much is certain.  And no more than two, maybe three drinks, tops.  Not a drop more.  Sorry, friends who like to drink with me.  I’ve learned my lesson.  Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson.

Now, despite how terrible this whole ordeal would appear to any normal human being (and the fact that I’ve written a blog about it surely doesn’t help), I hope you realize that I don’t actually drink that much.  The fact that I can no longer guzzle booze like a college kid on the last day of finals is the very reason that I couldn’t handle the vodka/Sambuca/wine combo that caused The Face Plant in the first place.  If you search my liquor stash at home you’ll find nothing more than a dusty bottle of Jameson and some stale red wine. Seriously.

That being said, like most normal folks, I do enjoy wine at least once in a while. It’s pretty crazy how hard it is to stay away from it altogether.  I mean, it was barely a month after I practically broke my face on a floor that I found myself out to dinner with friends and unwilling to turn down some Pinot Grigio.  Hell, even during pregnancy I had a little glass of wine once every once in a while (oh shut up, you did it too).

So why is it so hard to refrain? Well, for me, the answer is simple.  I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for my fellow mamas and papas.  CHILDREN.

Love ‘em to pieces, but they sure do drive us to drink.

So without further ado, (yup, it’s a list—sorry but the new job means no time for any deep blog revelations in the form of lengthy, meaningful prose) here are my top ten reasons that parents drink, inspired by the night I drank so much that my teeth fell out.

  1. Because all the coffee in the world won’t dull the sound of Max and Ruby, Ruby and Max, Max and Ruby, Ruby and Max playing on a loop inside your head.
  2. Because it’s always 5pm somewhere, but it’s 11p.m. right now– and your kid? Just went to bed.
  3. Because there was only one pink line on that pregnancy test you didn’t tell anyone you were taking (phew).
  4. Because in-laws.
  5. Because you recently heard a story on the news about a three-year-old girl whose IQ rivals that of Albert Einstein, and two minutes later you had to pry dog food out of your own three-year-old daughter’s mouth.
  6. Because holidays without alcohol are like childbirth without painkillers.  Sure, some people try to do it, but no one really knows why.
  7. Because you heard that red wine has antioxidents and stuff.  So it’s all like healthy.  Yep, THAT’s why you drink it.
  8. Because no one ever told you that “potty training” is really just a cutesy name for scrubbing piss off of every surface in your home for two months.
  9. Because uttering the words “I’ll just have water” on your semi-annual date night with your spouse should be illegal.
  10. Because….   34-wine-is-win-with-an-eWell, except for when you plant your face in a floor.

The Epic Dinner Fail

9 a.m. I really want to make something awesome for dinner tonight. My family rocks, they deserve a great meal. I’ll make a big pot of sauce! And spaghetti! And chicken cutlet parmesan! With meatballs! And garlic bread! And a really nice salad on the side, so we all get our greens of course. You know, I rock as a mom. I really do.

10 a.m. I can’t wait to start cooking. Shit, wait. I have no chop meat. But meatballs are Little M’s favorite. Okay, no problem. I’ll just go to the store and pick some up after I finish the dishes.

10:30 a.m. I actually need a shower first. I’ll go out and get the chop meat after.

11 a.m. I just remembered we have no lettuce either. I can grab some when I get the chop meat. Eh, who am I kidding? My kids wouldn’t touch a piece of lettuce if it were dipped in chocolate and covered with sprinkles. But I’ll still get the chop meat, Little M really likes meatballs.

11:30 a.m. Lunch time! I’ll go out and get the chop meat after I make the kids’ lunch.

12. p.m. Oh, Little D fell asleep. I’m not waking her up just to go to the store. I’ll go out and get the chop meat after she gets up.

1 p.m. Hmm. Don’t think I have time to get the chop meat now. The kids have doctor’s appointments in a little bit. I can always swing by the supermarket on the way home. Yep, that’s what I’ll do.

2 p.m. Why is this stupid office always crowded? A thousand doctors in the damn practice, and yet none of them are ever here. Where are they? What are they doing? Do they all specialize in pediatric neurosurgery on the side? And why won’t this snot-covered little boy sneeze on his own mother? Ick.

3 p.m. I should be on my way home by now. My beautiful dinner won’t cook itself. And if I have to shove one more tongue depressor at Little D in a feeble attempt to distract her from trying to run out the door, I’m going to stab someone with a dirty needle from the big red biohazard box. Am I ever getting the hell out of here??

4. p.m. Jeez, I thought that would never end. Oh look, it’s the supermarket! Imagine me dragging these miserable kids in there right now for freaking MEATBALLS? HA! Bye supermarket!

4:15 p.m. Um, so I just spent two hours listening to one kid beg me every five minutes to go home so he could play Wii while trying desperately to keep the other from crawling around on the filthy, germ-infested, doctor’s office floor. And I’m pretty sure I’m already showing signs of having swine flu. As awesome as breading, frying, and slapping a pound of cheese on a bunch of chicken cutlets sounds right about now, I think I’ll pass. Spaghetti will do just fine.

4:20 p.m. You know what? I really think I need a glass of wine first. I deserve it after that hellish afternoon. Bottle opener, where are you??

4:30 p.m. Mmm… That was a really good glass of wine. I should just have one glass. I’m probably just going to feel really tired if I have any more. But it was just so damn good. Ah, what the hell? One more glass, and then I’ll start to cook.

5:00 p.m. Ok just ONE MORE GLASS. I swear!

5:30 p.m. Wait. What was I planning to make for dinner again?

5:45 p.m. Hi, can I have a large pie with mushrooms, pepperoni and extra cheese?