the day after

When you become a mother, God stops smiling down on you. Just kidding. Let me rephrase. When you drink, and you are a mother, God stops smiling down on you. Since I had my girls, I'm a horrible light-weight when it comes to alcohol. I mean, one margarita makes me laugh too loud, sing at inopportune moments, and hug the wait staff. (Which I kinda like about myself? Who knew?)


Which brings me to this weekend. One of my very dearest friends was married yesterday. I was the matron of honor. Which carries sooome stress, if only for the simple fact that you want your best friend's wedding to be fucking fantastic, the rain NOT to stop by, pictures to be perfect, everyone to remain stain free, etc etc etc. So of course, when everything went smoothly, and the wedding culiminated into a throbbing mass of people (old, young, pretty, ugly, skinny, fat, ALL THE PEOPLE) gettin down on the dance floor, I was overjoyed. To celebrate how over-joyed I had become, I drank. And drank. And drank a little more. Champagne, wine, beer, fuck it!! PASS ME THE BEER BONG PLEASE.

Oh no, I dont have two little girls to care for in the morning. Two loud, expressive, in your face, MOMMY GET THE HELL OVER HERE, little girls.

Sike, I do.

Which brings me to my first thought this morning. "What the fuck were you thinking last night?".

Splitting headache, nausea and subsequent leave me the hell alone attitude quickly following that first thought.

What the fuck happened moms? In college I frequently stayed out til four in the morning (PISS DRUNK), went to work the next day, then went to class AFTER work, then went BACK to the bar AFTER class. All while maintaining decent grades, a boyfriend and a thousand fucking AWESOME friends!!! I made EVERYONE happy.

Then I had children.

And THIS happens? The first huge drunk bash was for my best friend's birthday following my daughters' births. We drank, I passed out UNDER a hotel cot, and generally dont remember most of the evening. Although my lovely girlfriends have photograph proof of what occurred. At some point I passed out ON a DINER TABLE. The next day was a family dinner, and when I say "FAMILY" dinner, I mean the whole fucking family. My mother was spoon feeding me mashed potatoes in my grandmother's bed. Seriously?? I'm fucking pathetic.

Then she spoke the phrase that doomed me. She said and I quote "Baby, God doesnt make it easy for mommy's to drink very much. Keep that in mind next time you go out for a cocktail."

Fuck me.