Reasons Mommy Drinks (24 page)

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

As adult birthday celebrations fade into oblivion only to emerge once a decade tainted with flamingos, over-the-hill cards, and awkward-for-everyone mooning incidents, birthday parties have come to entail sacrificing your afternoon nap every other Saturday to witness the ultimate battle for gold in the Mommylympic games. As your first birthday approaches, Mommy begins to panic. Surfing inspiration boards on Pinterest is the anti-help with its tiered princess cake recipes, twenty-three-step guides to hand-making party favors, and links to customized invitation websites with four-week delivery lead times. Banking on the limitations of your one-year-old memory, Mommy resorts to her only options at the eleventh hour: Evite’s first birthday party template, Dollar Store decor, and a supermarket cake. A year ago today, Mommy was in labor, but right now the only thing she’s giving birth to is a massive migraine. As a pack of wild wolves
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descends on her house on party day, Mommy silently bids farewell to her pearl white couch cover while cursing the Italian who decided that pizza sauce should be red. After the festivities conclude with present opening, during which Mommy attempts to exude excitement upon opening yet another regifted copy of
Goodnight Moon
, you are exhausted, and for the first time in months you fall asleep in Mommy’s arms. Staring at you at that moment, it hits Mommy that her little baby is no longer a baby. Although her type A personality would normally propel her to hand you to Daddy and immediately launch into cleaning her tornado-ravaged living room, Mommy nestles into the icing-encrusted couch cushions and savors this moment a little while longer.

INGREDIENTS

4 ounces unsweetened cherry cider

1 ounce almond syrup

1 apple, peeled, cored, and cubed

1 pear, peeled, cored, and cubed

1 peach, peeled, pitted, and cubed

INSTRUCTIONS

Combine all the ingredients in a blender with ice and blend until smooth. Pour into a glass and consume while doing internal cartwheels because you’re not in labor today.

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

In the latest installment of the dramatic series known as
Mommy Is Essentially a Talking Barn Animal
, the time has come to wean you. Weaning is the universe’s way of telling Mommy that the party is officially over: “Time to hand over that free boob job you’ve been enjoying. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your period on your way out.” If busting out her 32B bra collection wasn’t punishment enough, Mommy also has to deal with Daddy gloating about the fact that she can no longer say things like: “Can you make me an elaborate four-course meal? I would do it, but I have to nurse the baby.” However, at least she can go back to the old standby: “Can you make me an elaborate four-course meal? I would do it, but I have girl-time cramps.” Thank God men don’t understand Women’s Troubles. As much as she’s looking forward to burning her Bravado bras, Mommy already misses nursing. It was that special thing that only she could share with you. She hereby promises to never be judgy about mothers who breast-feed their school-aged children again. Keep the party goin’ and the liquid a-flowin’, sisters!

INGREDIENTS

Chocolate syrup

½ ounce coffee liqueur

½ ounce hazelnut liqueur

½ ounce vodka

½ ounce Irish cream

3 ounces milk

Whipped cream

INSTRUCTIONS

Drizzle chocolate syrup around the rim of a glass. Combine the coffee and hazelnut liqueurs, vodka, Irish cream, and milk in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass. Top the mixture with whipped cream. Now scrape off all that whipped cream because you’re no longer burning five hundred calories a day. “Moo!” (said angrily).

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

It’s clear the time has come for your ceremonial first haircut. Mommy’s been avoiding this day, but it’s not because she’s using you as a pawn in an elaborate gender experiment. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) (No, actually, there is.) It’s just that, thanks to the booming baby industry, any milestone in your life always makes Mommy feel like she’s got “I’m a new parent: Overcharge me” tattooed across her forehead. Mommy considered taking matters into her own hands until Daddy pointed out that anyone who outsources her own eyebrow maintenance shouldn’t be trusted with a pair of scissors and an infant’s head. So now Mommy finds herself at what is known in yuppie Mommyland as a Children’s Hair Salon. It’s great to see that, despite the hefty price premium versus Magicuts, the family-friendly salon is equipped without changing tables (!). After changing you on her thigh and ruining a perfectly not good pair of jeans, Mommy asks the stylist where to dispose of your diaper. Mommy is given a look like she’s just asked Bret Michaels if she could shove the hot mess under his bandanna. Only less into it. At least Mommy leaves with a photo of you (crying) and a First Haircut Certificate (hot tip: they’re available free online), both of which will get prime placement in the “Look! I’m a great parent!” album that you’ll be forced to review on your thirteenth birthday. At which time, in a cruel twist of fate, Mommy will probably be begging you to cut your hair.