One of my favorite ways to relax and tune out the monotony of the every day, is to sit around with my girlfriends gabbing about anything and everything, with a glass of wine. Generally one glass turns to two, then three… and eventually a whole bottle (ie: Box) somehow disappears. Sometimes, two. But that only happens after the kids go to bed. Usually.
But that’s how I like it. It’s MY time. It’s the infrequent social time that I cherish and look forward to. It’s the moments we get to be less-responsible; where our kids exist only in the stories we share, our stress disappears if only for a little while, and our personal connections are nurtured. And diapers don’t need to be changed because the sitter is taking care of that like a BOSS.
It’s the great escape for Mom’s, and we revel in it’s deliciousness. It’s also pretty fantastic to leave the poop to someone else.
There’s a stigma attached to this however, and while most Mom’s would stand and applaud our short escapes, it’s the child-less population who sit silently (some abrasively) judging the decision to turn to alcohol to unwind. I am generalizing here of course, but I have been subject to these judgments in the past and 100% of the time they came from an acquaintance who did not have children of their own.
Because every day they wake up at 2 am to toddler-vomit, spend 3.5 hours cleaning up toys and scrubbing dried food off of chairs and walls, and listen to “Mooooooommmmmy” in stereo on repeat for more than 80% of the day. Obviously they totally “get it”, right?
I silently vagina-punch those people in my head.
There’s nothing to judge here. We’re all great Mother’s. And I think having these moments makes us even better parents. Our patience tends to be a bit longer, our tolerance more… well tolerant, and our ability to withstand 47 “Give it to MEEEEE”s in a row at ear piercing level without mentally committing murder, could sometimes be described as heroic. For real. WE ARE HEROES.
But there are some downfalls that even I can admit.
Sometimes…and only sometimes (I swear)….we can get sloppy. Wine can do that to a person. Who knew? And when you’re gabbing away with your girlfriends, things can (always) gets somewhat animated. For me, it’s the furniture that I protect. For others, it’s their clothes. And for the really good mother, it’s their children. The other night for example, my toddler took a red wine bath. I ninja-moved my way to saving the couch and my sweater, but Ryder was collateral damage. I’d never admit that to my child-less friends though… no way. Because to them, Ryder’s pajama bottoms are worth way more than my $7,000 sectional. He didn’t drink it for fucks sake.
Good parenting is subjective (and really, non-existent) but judgment is part of our every parent’s day-to-day life. It’s not ok – it’s just what is. Sometimes, it hurts. Other times, it can anger. But what I have learned is that everyone has an opinion and the ignorant like to share it. I choose my battles a little more wiser than before.
So when I take the time to enjoy my glass of Shiraz with the girls, I make sure my furniture is protected, and I never ever tell anyone (other than those present) that I stained the children.
C’mon, red wine comes out in the washing machine, assholes.