I guess I was a little quick to assume that everyone who is a fan of The Mean Mom would be able to figure out that despite what I write, I really don't start drinking at eight in the morning (even though there are times when I'd like to), I rarely drink in the middle of the day (unless it's a weekend or holiday), and I definitely don't get hammered every night (only every other). Have I thought about throwing a shot of Baileys in my morning coffee or sneaking some Malibu into my midday Diet Coke? Um, yes. Definitely yes. But I also need to function, be a mom, not get my ass thrown in jail, and get shit done. So, duh, just because I say that I could use a drink doesn't mean that I'm going to drop everything, leave my kids in the car and find the nearest happy hour.
Recently, one Facebook "fan" went so far as to say: "Some of your posts r funny but most of them r all about getting drunk don't get me wrong I like to have a drink every so often too but not all the time maybe u should get some therapy." She continued by saying that "This isn't meant to piss u off but all your posts sound the same."
While I managed to refrain from pointing out to this fan that she should maybe work on forming a proper sentence instead of the run-on version, and that typing "are" and "you" really isn't a huge challenge and she should try it some time, I also thought well, gee, several of my posts do mention alcohol, so maybe she had a point. Maybe instead of always giving the impression that I'd rather be drinking than dealing with reality, people would rather hear about what my day is really like. Maybe my life isn't so boring after all! So to test this theory, I'm going to translate a few of my past posts into something more "realistic" instead of just stuff like "Me angry need to get drunk now, go away people, except you bartender person, you can stay." Please feel free to let me know which version you prefer.
A) I could say that my favorite part of yard work isn't the post-mow beer, but I was told that it's not nice to lie.
B) I weeded the garden and mowed the lawn, it was hot, I got sweaty, and since it was a Sunday afternoon and even though I didn't need one, I had a beer. A beer. Not two or even five. A beer.
A) Oh, I'm sorry. Did I just snap at you? Well then maybe you shouldn't ask me the same question 3400 times! Beer, please!
B) Kid #1 asked "When are we leaving," I said 8:45. Kid #2 asked "Hey mom, when are we leaving," I said 8:45. Kid #3 asked "When do we need to leave," I said 8:45. Kid #1 asked, again, "When are we leaving," I said 8:45. Kid #2 was reading the sports section so I said hurry up and get ready we need to leave, to which he responded "I thought we weren't leaving until 9:45." Then Kid #2 wondered if he had enough time to practice piano because he forgot what time we're leaving, so I said no you don't have time, because we're leaving in ten minutes, at 8:45. At 8:43, I said go get your shoes on, so of course Kid #3 started hauling out two dozen stuffed animals to play with and I said holy crap this is why mommy thinks about drinking beer for breakfast because we're supposed to be leaving! So Kid #3 asked oh, well, what time are we leaving?
A) This morning's extreme productivity is being accomplished with one very important goal in mind: happy hour can come sooner rather than later.
B) It is noon, and so far I have washed, folded and put away two loads of laundry, cleaned four bathrooms, ran three miles, played an hour of tennis, grocery shopped, scheduled five orthodontist appointments and packed a cooler for lunch. While a happy hour sounds lovely right now, I have to continue dreaming about it because I still need to drive my kids around. So even though it may come later rather than sooner, I may eventually indulge in one or two cocktails on my deck.
A) Morning kid barf on bedroom carpet + evening dog crap on great room carpet = Captain Morgan in my Diet Coke IMMEDIATELY!
B) Right after eating banana bread, strawberries and drinking a glass of oj for breakfast, my oldest kid hurled on his cream colored bedroom carpet. He felt fine, but just had an upset stomach because he ate too much fruit for breakfast. While I'm glad he isn't sick, this doesn't change the fact that I started my day by cleaning up a chunky brown barf stain. Later that day, the smelly old dog decided that it was too much work to crap outside so he decided to just take a dump on the floor. Again, cream colored carpet. This was a gross day, but it's okay because I'm supposed to love my job 24/7/365, I've been told that being a mom is a privilege and only losers would actually self-medicate with booze.
A) I had a half-hour to kill during piano lessons this morning, so I did what any intelligent, responsible mom would do: I went to the liquor store.
B) While my boys were at piano lessons, I used the time to run a couple errands and since I was low on beer, one of those stops happened to be the liquor store. Because you know what? To hell with people that are quick to judge because I am a responsible, intelligent adult who happens to have kids. And I like to drink. And if someone thinks that deriving joy from having a cocktail or two automatically labels me as a bad parent or someone that needs therapy, then I'm pretty sure that person (a) doesn't have kids, (b) doesn't have a sense of humor, and (c) is incapable of typing the word "are."