Reasons Mommy Drinks (29 page)

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

When you’re sixteen and you ask Mommy to help you buy your first set of wheels, Mommy will explain that she already blew way too much cash in that department before you turned sixteen
weeks
. And that doesn’t include all the money she’s burned on the forty-three accessories purchased to pimp your ride, including cup holders, an arctic foot muff, and a sun hood now covered in Mommy’s blood from jamming her finger when she collapsed the stroller for the first time. Nor does it factor in the replacement cost of the countless Robeez shoes, orthodontic pacifiers, and Sophie the Giraffes that you’ve left littered throughout the neighborhood because your favorite game is launching things overboard and seeing if Mommy notices. (Which she usually doesn’t because she’s too busy apologizing to other pedestrians for completely monopolizing the sidewalk and/or running over their small dogs.) While Daddy loves talking hydraulics, shocks, and turning radius, Mommy is still haunted by the image of the Bugaboo’s price tag. For what they paid that day, Mommy assumed she was wheeling away a magical carriage that would fulfill your every need. Unfortunately, it turns out that a cavalcade of strollers is required: one that’s lightweight for navigating the city, one for travel that collapses to the size of an umbrella like a scene out of
The Jetsons
, and even one that Mommy’s expected to push while jogging through the city (this one is collecting dust next to her Reebok EasyTone kicks). Then you learned to walk. Now placing you in a stroller of any kind elicits shrieks so bloodcurdling that Mommy regularly checks the seat for sharp objects. Your newfound mobility brings tears to Mommy’s eyes—you’re all grown up and now it takes forty-five minutes to travel a half block. Wahh!

INGREDIENTS

1 ounce vodka

1 ounce blue curaçao

3 ounces lemon-lime soda

INSTRUCTIONS

Fill a glass with ice. Pour in all the ingredients and stir. Serve with a line of credit.

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

Though Mommy was never all that into watching sports, seeing six-packs in high def used to be great motivation to hit the gym the next day. Plus, from the Stanley Cup to the Super Bowl, watching Daddy get all emotionally charged during a playoff game was seriously sexy. But thanks to Mommy’s fragile postpartum emotional state, she can barely watch a Cheez Whiz commercial without crying, let alone the next Olympic Games. She’s not sure if it’s the human interest stories behind these global sporting events that get to her (which always involve some combination of a deceased war hero, a devastating knee injury, and a village fire) or the fact that it’s now too late to chase her own athletic dreams (confirmed last week when she pulled a hamstring peeling herself off the couch to microwave a Lean Cuisine). Though at least Mommy feels like she already walked in an Olympian’s shoes during her pregnancy, thanks to the dietary restrictions, toting around a shot put for nine months, and a medal-worthy performance in the delivery room. More likely it’s because she can’t help but wonder if you’ll one day grace the cover of
Sports Illustrated
or stand on a podium in front of an audience of billions as she beams with pride from the sidelines. Daddy seems to have also pegged the family’s dreams of going pro on you, convinced that an Ivy League scholarship is already in the bag. Mommy secretly wonders if he’s reading too much into the “early signs of promise” he’s witnessed in you during mealtime, like repeatedly throwing your fusilli at the wall.

INGREDIENTS

½ ounce vodka

½ ounce triple sec

3 ounces pureed mango

2 ounces orange juice

Splash of lime

Wedge of lime

INSTRUCTIONS

Combine all the ingredients in an ice-filled glass and stir. Garnish with a lime wedge.

NOTE

Victory never tasted so sweet.

HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

Your grandma means well, but she’s driving Mommy up the (now permanently stained) wall. Apparently, in Grandma’s day, children didn’t cry, poo, vomit, or do anything other than look like Gerber Baby models. Maybe that’s because babies had a pretty good buzz going from the brandy being smeared on their gums. Grandma keeps clearing her throat any time Mommy tries to do anything, which means “You’re doing it wrong.” Even what Mommy dresses you in is up for scrutiny, like the time she put you in a skull-and-crossbones Onesie from Baby Gap (“Is that a gang shirt? He’ll turn to drugs!”). When you were born, she thought Grandma would want to spend time with you so Mommy could nap or shower, or at least pee with the bathroom door closed. But instead Grandma only wanted to hold you when you were sleeping. Mommy still needs Grandma’s validation, so she let her feed you meat when you were only three months old (“In my day, babies ate liverwurst sandwiches to build immunity!”) and bites her tongue when she gives you inappropriate toys (“It says ‘for ages 10 and up,’ but how else will the baby learn about sharp edges?”). After never quite outgrowing the scars of her teenage years, Mommy vows to be nothing like Grandma in her parenting choices. However, after catching herself about to chastise you for playing with a color wheel instead of an abacus, she’s already started on the rapid descent into her worst nightmare:
becoming her mother
.