Not an hour after yesterday’s post was finished I caught a case of the rainy day blues. And promptly burst in to tears while cooking diner. Ever my knight in shining armor MQD left immediately to get wine.
The wine improved my mood here and there . I was not crying but still cranky. Cranky enough to be less than pleased with Emily as she goofed off while we were supposed to be cleaning up her room prior to bedtime. She spilled her glass of water, “Dammit, Emily” I said, to myself, or so I thought. She burst in to tears. “You called me a name! It breaks my heart when you call me names!” Sigh… I did NOT call you a name, and what the fuck do you mean “it breaks my heart” like I do this all of the time!! This flair for the dramatic, where does THAT come from? Heh. We addressed these points, calmly and finished picking up her room.
All was right in the world, and glass of wine in hand we read a few “days” worth of The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I leaned over to give her a kiss good night, and her hands on either side of my face, they always feel so small. She seems so big to me, until she is kissing me good night and I can feel her tiny, warm hands against my cheeks, her kisses just as sweet as when she was so very small. “Mom, I love to kiss you… when you have wine your breath tastes so good.”
I learned two things last night. The first – it is a far greater wrongdoing in my house to name-call than it is to swear. The second – Wine breath is perceived as novel. I think both of these things stand as a testament to my superior parenting.
*Special thanks to my mom for making this miracle happen… Solo time at a bar, mid day. There is nothing sweeter. And yes, that is my smile reflected in the brass of a beer tap.
Excitement on the side 