You’ve got kids now, so get over yourself already.

I have 3 kids. My oldest child is from a previous relationship (that’s what us slutties call a one night stand when we’re talking to other grown-ups) and my youngest two I had with my now husband. But before all of that nonsense, I worked in a bar, a brewpub actually, and I regularly imbibed copious amounts of alcohol. It was actually in my job description: “have extensive knowledge on the brews we serve, including the process in which they are made.” I could bullshit my way through the explanation of how the brews were.. brewed.. but in all reality I had no idea. But the taste? I could nail that shit to a tree from 100 yards back. I knew which beers went with steak, which ones went with fish… pizza… pasta…. I knew my shit. I knew how to take a customer’s preferences and choose a brew that would not only suffice, but dazzle. And that’s how we “rolled”…they practically force fed us that crap, giving it away by the case if they had a batch that was off, or if they had a lot of low-fills (the machines sometimes fuck up and don’t fill the bottles or cans up to the top). We were required to have a meeting before each shift where we had a “beer of the day,” and we’d all get a personal 10 oz brew. We also got a free shift drink every day as soon as our shift was over, and a heavy discount on booze after that. So I was never short on tipsy juice.

Then I got pregnant. I’ll spare you the details, I think we all know how that happens. Of course I quit drinking for my 10 month sentence, I’m not an asshole. I was also a smoker pre-preggo, and I absolutely quit that shit. **If you are pregnant now and you are still smoking…. you suck, slap yourself in the face.** So after I had my beautiful baby boy, I got a mere 4 weeks of maternity leave before I had to go back to work. Even though I saved up almost $3,000, it didn’t last very long at all. Plus I had just bought my first house (yeah, I was 19, suck it lamos) and I wasn’t receiving any sort of child support until the boy was almost 4 months old. So I was broke, and had to get back to slinging booze so I could pay the bills. I unfortunately had to stop breastfeeding at that time too because it was impossible to pump, being a waitress sucks balls for all of you that don’t know. And I won’t ever claim I did it alone, all by myself. My mother helped me tremendously, until I found out she was getting wasted and leaving the oven on with the door open (but that’s another post…). But it was definitely hard. I was only 20 when I had him, and on my 21st birthday I was home by 9 pm, not drunk at all.

After my son turned 9 months old, I started getting really lonely. Nobody knew what I was going through. I had a couple of friends who would sympathize, and I am forever thankful for them – ladies, you know who you are – but they only really saw a smidgen of what was going on in my life… they were fucking busy, I’m not salty or anything. But they got to go home at night to their significant others, roommates, friends… I got to go home to…. a mostly empty house, and a baby who couldn’t yet talk, but demanded a lot from me, and only me. I never had the, “Oh you and your dad are so cute and shit!” moments. Or the, “here can you change this diaper?” moments either. It was all on me. I made every major, and minor, decision in my house for almost two years, during which time I was unwillingly celibate. It got very depressing. I thought it might always be that way.

All I wanted was to go out, relax, and have fun like all the other 21-year-olds. After all, it wasn’t like I could come back later and re-live my early 20’s. Most of the time I would drink after my shifts, that would end around midnight, and I would invite a few friends over to have a sesh. For those of you who aren’t cool, that means “smoke weed.” Other times, we’d drink a little, smoke a little, then after some awesome convo, we’d say our goodnights, and that was it. But then, the bar stopped having their weekly poker tournament for some dumb reason…(law)… So me and a few close friends started up a poker night at my house. At first it was just me and two other people. Then after a while, more people started coming, and it turned into kind of a ‘thing’. If I didn’t have poker night, I’d get razzed by my buddies, and they would force me to make plans for the next. This went on and on for about 6 months, during which time I was ‘dating’ a guy who, in the end, turned out to be a total and complete waste of time, and… he ended up breaking up with me via text message. Yes. Text message. Bleh. Yeah, he’s a douchebag. The point of all this, though, was that I was so far up my own ass I couldn’t see straight. Sometimes I would have my mom watch my son, but I will be completely honest, there were nights when I got totally shitfaced while my son slept in his room. I never drove anywhere, but that doesn’t matter. If anything had happened, I wouldn’t have been able to drive, if his life depended on it… Because I was really fucking selfish. I should have gotten a sitter if I wanted to do that crap. I should have thought about him first… but I was so wrapped up in my own bologna. And I regret it, deeply. Because when a person makes the commitment to have a child, and raise that child, as of that moment, you are supposed to make sacrifices. Without hesitation. Meaning = I screwed up. I was doing something wrong… and it was definitely not “ok”.

So when it got way too out of control one night, and after a long talk with my best friend(who is now my husband), I gave up drinking altogether. When I was growing up my parents were always drinking, every night, 30 pack and a bottle if not more than that. It was just how things were, so I guess part of me thought it was totally acceptable. But the other part of me felt so guilty, and knew that I absolutely had to get my shit together unless I wanted to be ‘that kind of parent’. It took a while, it wasn’t just an overnight kind of thing, but after a relapse or two, it seemed like I had kicked what had turned into quite a habit. And then, it all became so.. fucking.. clear. I was a bad mom. I was not doing my best, by a long shot. But I was determined to change that, and I knew it was possible, I just had to get off my fat ass and DO it. And I didn’t just STOP drinking forever. I still enjoy a nice glass of wine now and then, some weeks, every night. But I hardly ever get a buzz on, like 3 times in 4 years. And if I wanted to, I would get. a. fucking. SITTER. And I sure as hell would not feel right doing it every damned night.

And now I can’t help but judge other moms who are just like I was. I am a Judgy McJudgerson…..I know it, and I am not ashamed to admit it. And I can be, because I’m not sitting high atop a pillar of purity, looking down on these moms. I can judge, because I was once that selfish and stupid. And we all judge, so I don’t wanna hear it. Because I can’t help but frown at the dumb whores driving around with a SLIGHTLY cracked window, cigarette smoke billowing out, carseat in the back…. I can’t help but frown at the stupid bitches insisting that every weekend is party time, and that sitter better come through, because “I NEED SOME MEEEE TIME!”

Whiny.

Fucking.

Bitches.

You spread those damn legs, you made an adult decision, and now you have adult consequences to deal with. And for fuck’s sake—it’s a person! Not a puppy, not a turtle… A child. And that child will be affected by everything you do, say, are… And if you aren’t ready to admit that… it’s ok. I’m sure there is somebody out there willing to sit your stupid ass down and tell you the whole truth. About how you are an embarrassment to other moms. That you are doing it wrong. You aren’t GUARANTEED free time. Like fucking recess….. This isn’t 4th grade, grow the fuck up! You had kids! You don’t get to decide when to be a parent… YOU ARE A PARENT ALL THE TIME. Period. So please, all you dumb hookers… Put that cig out, send that shot back… you have shit to do.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s