At 3 PM, after another marathon of enforcing rules and folding laundry, I feel that familiar tug. As the day begins to wind down and the soft rays of evening sunlight stream through my kitchen windows, a restlessness creeps in.
“No, not yet,” I remind myself. “It’s too early. Just hold on.”
I distract myself with the never-ending chores of stay-at-home parenting—tasks I could practically do in my sleep. The clock ticks away, each second dragging me closer to the arbitrary hour I’ve deemed acceptable for my little indulgence. The kids swarm around me, eager to know what’s for dinner, while the TV blares the day’s news. My kitchen resembles a battlefield of backpacks, abandoned homework, and the beginnings of a family meal.
Laundry? Unfolded, yet again. Balancing a busy freelancing gig with the responsibilities of being the “at-home” parent feels like carrying a mountain on my back. I empty the dishwasher for the second time that day, gazing out the window and feeling like I’m drowning in a tidal wave of chaos I can’t seem to tame. My life hasn’t belonged to me for ages, and I’m utterly exhausted from being everything for everyone under my roof.
I am tired.
Motherhood is no walk in the park.
Wine makes it a bit more bearable.
The bottle sits on my counter, a faithful companion waiting patiently. It’s half-full from last night’s indulgence, a beacon beckoning me closer. As I reach for a glass, I can almost taste the rich sweetness of red wine and inhale the robust aroma that will soon fill the air.
I feel the cool glass bottle in my hands and hear the satisfying pop of the cork as I tilt it, pouring my daily dose of sanity. The chaos around me fades into the background as I fixate on the swirling crimson stream flowing into my glass. The sound of the wine splashing into the crystal goblet feels like a hug for my soul. As I bring the glass to my lips, I feel my shoulders drop, and I savor that first long sip. Happy hour has officially begun.
And this routine plays out most days.
I’ve come to anticipate that daily glass of wine, and sometimes, it makes me uneasy. I chuckle at the jokes my friends share about needing to down a bottle after a chaotic day with kids. I post memes on social media about mothers surviving with a drink in hand. While sipping wine at a gathering, I can’t help but wonder if there are other moms who share my feelings.
Do they ever worry about their relationship with alcohol? Do they think they have a problem?
As a healthcare professional, I’ve seen the signs of alcoholism. I’ve witnessed the slurring uncle at weddings and the perma-buzzed friend at neighborhood gatherings. I’ve held the hands of patients with jaundiced skin, their bodies ravaged by alcohol, drifting in and out of awareness while their loved ones weep, wishing they could have intervened sooner.
That’s not me, I convince myself.
I drink the fancy stuff. Out of crystal. Like a civilized adult.
But I pour myself wine more often than not. Sometimes it’s not just one glass. I sip to calm my social anxiety. I drink during girls’ night out. I toast to the end of a long week when my husband finally gets home on a Friday, while the kids play outside. Sometimes, I drink because it’s Tuesday.
My children have seen me tipsy a few times, and the weight of shame lingers as I nurse a hangover the next day. “Adults mess up sometimes,” I explain to them. “Mommy had a little too much.” I promise them it won’t happen again. As I sip on sparkling water, hoping I won’t be sick, I tell myself that I’ll stick to my daily glass of wine because motherhood is tough. And wine helps.
I often ask my friends about their drinking habits, comparing notes to see if my consumption is “normal.” As I fib about how many glasses I down in a week, I suspect they do the same. We chat about the stresses of motherhood, the relentless demands on our time. We groan about lacking opportunities to unwind, and we agree that alcohol provides a brief escape from the daily mayhem our lives have turned into. We clink our glasses of rosé, feeling self-satisfied that we’re not in trouble.
We’re just moms who enjoy a drink.
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Summary
This article captures the internal dialogue of a mother who finds solace in her daily glass of wine amidst the chaotic life of parenting. It explores the balance between enjoying a drink and wrestling with the fear of alcohol dependence, ultimately painting a relatable picture of modern motherhood.