I was standing in the school yard the other morning yapping with a friend whose children attend the same school. Somehow or another we got talking wine.
It makes me smile when I think of how many conversations I’ve had lately wherein wine came up. We start off talking like we are modest consumers…and then somehow a few minutes later we are both confessing to multiple bottle experiences on multiple occasions per week.
I’ve lied to every Doctor I have about the volume of vino I consume. When I confess to 7-10 glasses per week they are mortified and review how women absorb and react to alcohol differently than men and thus I am to proceed with extreme caution. Yet regardless of the warnings and/or my bodies own physical revolt to my behavior…it continues. I really, really enjoy it.
I work by day and many times night (coaching practice is growing YAY), parent by evening and then once the lunches are made, kiddos are asleep, toys tidied, laundry folded (and maybe on a really, really good day put away the same day)…I plop my butt on the couch. Directly beside me, my partner in crime AKA my husband. He is a custom cabinet maker by day and usually is unable to even take ten minutes as a break or space to himself upon arrival home. He’s the victim of absence. I work from home. They see me. He works at the shop….they miss him. He walks in the door and BLAM….like flies on flypaper. For me it is absolutely awesome and I count down the minutes until he arrives. I smile, ask about his day and know full well I will likely never hear the full response as the kids are already attacking him. It’s our little routine and it completely works for me….the calm before the dinner storm.
Some days the wine opens at five. Oh who am I kidding, most days there’s wine at 5. That’s when I am preparing dinner with three children hanging off me….picking at what I am preparing. Some days openly whining while I prepare it about their displeasure with my selection or a want for something I don’t have in the house. Like Salmon. I really dislike fish. I can’t cook it. The smell puts me right over the edge and then I can’t eat it. It has to be BBQ’d to keep the cooking of fish smell out of the house…..
I know some will be reading this thinking OMG She is a total alcoholic. By their standards I guess I am. What makes me feel better about it is that I’m totally not alone. I’m really quite normal by comparison to those around me. They are good people!! So am I…. besides…when I use my big goblets…it’s just a glass a day…….