It occurred to me recently that I talk about drinking wine pretty often. I admitted to crying when I ran out of the stuff once.
I started to wonder whether admitting openly to loving wine (and actually also loving beer, margaritas, cosmopolitans, whisky sours and anything with Chambord just as much), was…inappropriate for a mom. I guess I had flashbacks of that scene from “Desperate Houswives” when Bree is “caught” tossing out a bag full of empty wine bottles and her friends chatter about whether this was indicative of a problem.
I have officially decided that no, it is NOT a problem.
I decided that a little imbibement (imbibing? imbibitude? imbibishousness?) is good for the soul. Or at least the sanity.
And, I realized that I wasn’t alone in this thinking.
It seems as though I am not actually the first mother to be overwhelmed by life. While I understand…
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