Let’s face it: the stereotype of moms joking about wine is as common as yoga pants, coffee runs, and minivans. But for me, the truth is that I genuinely lean on a glass of wine to navigate the wild ride of motherhood. I could probably survive without my beloved spandex and even coffee (gasp), but life without wine? No way.
Trust me, I’ve given it a shot—and it was a disaster.
I pour a glass because there was that one time my little one decided to take a joyride down the grocery store parking lot in a shopping cart while I was busy strapping the baby into the car. I watched in horror as bystanders leaped from their vehicles to catch him before he made a beeline for a busy street. We managed to grab him just in time, but my relief was short-lived; the baby had a massive blowout in the car seat right after. Ah, motherhood—what a joy.
I drink because my mom is battling cancer, and some days she’s too drained to be heard over the cacophony created by my kids. One day, while trying to catch up with her in another room, my youngest decided to venture outside, leaving the door wide open. After a frantic search, I found her on the next street, barefoot and clad only in a diaper. That night, I put the kids to bed and sank into a hot bath with a glass of wine, clutching it like a lifeline.
My husband took one look at my frazzled state and asked, “Would you like a refill?” Yes, please.
I drink because boys are like tiny tornadoes, swinging shovels at the outdoor water spigot just to see what happens. When that thing broke, I had to call my husband at work to come fix it because I couldn’t handle it. It’s moments like that when I feel the urge for something comforting.
I drink because when my oldest gets in trouble and I send him outside, he decides to express his feelings with spray paint on the driveway. Sweet sentiment, but now it’s a permanent reminder.
I drink because someone is always finding creative ways to stick foreign objects in places they shouldn’t, and let’s not even talk about the trampoline we bought last year—what were we thinking?
I drink because one time, despite my best efforts to monitor their fiber intake, I ended up in the ER with one of my kids due to serious constipation. Talk about a nightmare.
Cleaning out the van is another reason I indulge. I recently discovered bubblegum wedged into the headrest hole, sandwich crusts petrifying between the seats, and peanut butter smeared on Barbie dolls hidden under piles of papers. Just looking at that mess makes me want to pour a drink. I mean, who has the time or energy to deal with that?
Today, I went grocery shopping and, despite my kids being relatively calm, it was chaos. My toddler tugged at the shopping list, my middle child was meowing like a cat, and my oldest was peppering me with questions. I hastily grabbed my essentials, including a box of wine, and headed to the register.
As the cashier scanned my purchase, she gave me that knowing look—the kind only a fellow mom can give. My children were belting out lyrics to “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae),” and she gently placed the wine in my hands, saying, “Girl…you need this.” And yes, I absolutely did.
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Summary
This humorous take highlights the everyday chaos of motherhood and the necessity of wine as a coping mechanism. From grocery store escapades to the realities of raising energetic children, it captures the wild ride of parenting with a relatable touch.