Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way

Overwhelmed Mom

Yep, that pretty much sums up my week. Fortunately, I made do with a latte and a couple of O’Doul’s. Let me give you a little recap.

Friday:

Finally, the hubs and I get to celebrate our belated anniversary while the in-laws take the kids for the ENTIRE night. And…not so fast. Just as I’m dropping the kids off that afternoon, we discover head lice on my daughter. I’m immediately in denial. My mother-in-law and I are trying to convince my father-in-law they’re fruit flies – nope not happening. We put four on a wet paper towel and book it to Walgreens for confirmation. As I’m standing at the pharmacy counter debating with the two young pharmacists whether these “bugs” are or are not lice, my best friend who I had planned to have afternoon coffee and cake with, walks up to me and hands me a piece of my favorite chocolate cake. Seriously, friend of the year right there. But, now I find myself with a baggie of what we have now determined are lice in one hand and chocolate cake in the other. Something is very wrong with this picture.

Fast forward. We’re home. While my mother-in-law starts the all-consuming lice treatment on my daughter, I frantically tear through the house stripping anything that’s not bolted down. Quickly, piles of bedding and pillows start accumulating; the washer and dryer are going full speed; stuffed animals are being quarantined; dolls are being stuffed in freezers; never has there been a time I’m so grateful for my OCD behavior.

Obviously, our Friday night plans have drastically changed. I call my husband. It’s action time. There’s no way I can dry ALL of this stuff. Is there a laundromat nearby? Do laundromat’s still exist? Yes, yes they do! Thank you, Jesus! We have a little over an hour for hubs to dry four bags of pillows and comforters before basketball practice. Yes, we can do this! Thirty minutes later I get a text and attached pic of hubs and exploded pillow on the floor. Apparently, two of the pillows didn’t like the dryers. He assures me he’s giving the “regulars” quite a show. I’m now laughing so hard tears are streaming down my face.

Wash continues. I treat myself just in the off chance those little suckers are looking for a new home. Seriously. I can’t believe this is happening!

Saturday:

50 loads of wash later, I’m feeling like we might have this under control. I have Googled every piece of head lice info that exists. Friends have given me their steam cleaners and friendly advice and “This too shall pass” comfort. I’m not so sure.

Honestly, this day is a blur.

Sunday:

Morning wakeup with the dreaded daily “nit picking.” I feel like a mother monkey picking bugs off her young – but I’m not eating them. The fact that I’m picking bugs out of my daughter’s hair means nothing to me anymore. It’s just a simple fact.

Highlight of my day – meeting another sober blogger for coffee and shopping. Much needed break and more assurance that I will, in fact, survive this too. I’m honestly starting to think we’re the only family who hasn’t dealt with this dreaded parasite. Is it like childbirth? Horribly painful, but then you forget all about it? Weird.

Monday:

I have notified everyone that needs to be notified and they have promised a thorough check at school. Another before school “nit picking” session and I’m feeling pretty confidant.

Now, that my head cold is in full swing I’m looking forward to a day of rest. Not so fast. An hour after drop-off, I get the dreaded call. More nits. Come and pick daughter up. Nooooo!

It’s time. Time for the dreaded mayonnaise treatment. As I spread mayonnaise through my daughter’s hair, all I can think about is how I might never want to eat a sandwich again with this particular mayonnaise. Then it’s plastic wrap around her head and wait three hours, which for a nine-year-old is practically an eternity. But, I’m determined to smother these suckers. And, to make her feel better I assure her that people do this all the time for silky soft hair. Heck, it’s practically like going to a spa.

While she’s enjoying her spa treatment, I strip the bedding – again. And, vacuum – again. Seriously, this house is freakin’ spotless!

Tuesday:

I’m officially exhausted. I. Need. Rest.  No news is good news. Just in case, I do yet another treatment on myself. I may die of insecticide poisoning, but at least I won’t have lice. Just trying to stay positive.

Wednesday:

Kind of “normal” day. Starting to feel really confidant I’ve got these suckers beat. Not finding many nits in our daily head checking and life is semi-routine again. Okay, I’ve got this. I. Will. Survive.

Thursday:

Normal morning. Head check is good. A few here and there, but all in all looking up.

Hubs and I make an impromptu date for lunch. If we can’t manage dinner, lunch at the local Chinese restaurant will have to do. Maybe we’ll do a little shopping after. We’re alone and it’s a miracle!

And, then the dreaded call. More nits. Come and get your daughter. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I’m totally and completely defeated. I can’t handle this. Out of everything I’ve gone through, this might be what ultimately sends me off the deep end. Maybe I should just have hubs drive me to the State Hospital right now. But, no, they might have lice there. Am I safe anywhere?!

Pick daughter up. Yes, there are more. I get a thorough tutorial on how to go through every strand of hair, which I thought I was doing but apparently not to the degree needed. This is going to be a long day.

Once home, I get my supplies out. Well lit area? Check. Wet paper towel (to wipe nits on)? Check. Hair pins? Check. New movie on Kindle to keep daughter occupied? Check. Gummy bears? Check. Because, gummy bears just make everything better.

Two hours and one bag of gummy bears later, I’m feeling like a bad ass nit picker – if there is such a thing. Those guys don’t know who they’re messing with. I. Will. Eradicate. You.

One more lice treatment, two loads of wash and a big ol’ prayer that this is it. The end.

And, I’m reminded for the millionth time that being a mom is by far the hardest job that I’ll ever have…and this too shall pass.

 

 

 

Drinkers Wanted; Believers Needed

I drove by a bar the other day that I drive by on a regular basis and they had changed their sign to read, “Drinkers Wanted.” I chuckled a little bit because I would’ve been all over that when I was drinking, and then I got a little sad. I thought about my life then compared to my life now. And, I thought about all the people out there who are still searching for that “Drinkers Wanted” sign above anything else in their life.

Forgive me if this post reads like a stream of consciousness. I haven’t written in a long time, and I feel like the words are coming out faster than I can type them. For ease of reading, I’ll try to condense my topics.

  1. Thank you for all your thoughts, prayers and well wishes for my husband, Tyler, and his recovery from neck surgery. He is healing up nice and this morning got the go ahead from his doc that he can start driving again. I’m happy and he’s happy because it means my duty as wife/taxi driver are over and he gets his freedom back. But, in all honestly, I’m kind of sad. As frustrating as it was at times (hectic mornings out of routine, driving twice as much as I would normally drive and shorter work days for him), I’m going to miss our extra time together and our morning chats after dropping the kids off at school. This was one of those lessons in seeing the positive in the perceived negative (which I could always use more of in my life!).
  2. Life is B-U-S-Y right now (which explains not writing more). I had NO idea what I was getting myself (actually, our family) into when I signed both kids up for t-ball this spring. I’m not kidding when I say that almost every day/night of the week we have either practice or a game. It’s by far the busiest this family has ever been. A couple years ago when I was drinking this kind of busy would’ve sent me over the edge. Actually, back up. When I was drinking I probably would’ve never even signed my kids up for t-ball because it would’ve seriously infringed on my drinking schedule. So, fast forward to today and I’m loving it! Yes, we’re crazy busy and I barely have time to think and I sometimes feel like I’m in the car ALL day, but I’m happy and I know these days won’t last forever. One day, my kids will walk out the door, waving goodbye and I’ll wonder where the time went. So, each day I wake up and brace myself for another crazy busy day and hope for the best.
  3. I’m sponsoring someone for the first time, which has been an amazing experience so far. I write and blog to help others and pass on what I have been so freely given, but it’s completely different (as many of you know) when you’re working with someone face-to-face. I see so much of myself in her when I first began this journey and I just hope and pray I can be an example of what is possible through recovery and working the steps.
  4. Holy Week. I have so many emotions and thoughts running through my head right now. This Saturday night I will be baptized for the first time ever at our church’s Saturday night Easter Vigil. As I’ve written before, this has been a long and personal journey for me. And, it truly is just that, a journey. I am reminded of so many years past, but I’m especially reminded of four years ago on the Easter Vigil. It was my grandpa’s 90th birthday and friends and family from near and far had come to celebrate with him. I started drinking early in the day and never stopped. Eventually, my husband put me in the car and drove me to our hotel (with our kids) where I passed out on the bed. I briefly remember my husband trying to wake me, but I was completely out of it. The next morning I woke up to discover that without knowing who got what, he had assembled the kids’ Easter baskets because I was too drunk to do it. Up until then, my husband was one of the few who knew how bad my drinking had gotten, but after that night it was no longer a secret. It still pains me to think about that night and the shame and guilt I felt the next morning. But, it’s those memories that make my upcoming baptism mean even more to me. I know those moments and incidents are not what defines me. I know that change is possible and forgiveness sets you free. And, what means more to me than almost anything is that my grandpa who just turned 94 has been one of my biggest supporters throughout my recovery.

Today, I am humble and grateful for this messy, beautiful life I have been given. If you’re at the beginning of your journey, know that despite the shame, guilt and desperation you may be feeling now, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Just give the journey a chance.

Happy Easter, friends – oh, and play ball!

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When the One You Love Is Gone

Grief Process

Yesterday afternoon, in between rain showers, I took a walk around our neighborhood. I walked quickly, knowing that I only had a short time before leaving to pick my son up from school. The fresh air felt good, and I let my thoughts drift as I walked and listened to my music.

I thought about some of the things that had been weighing heavy on my heart and how more than anything I wished I could see and talk to my mom. I wanted to hear her soothing voice, telling me everything was going to be okay. I just wanted her.

As I began to walk the steep part of the road close to our home, I found myself gasping for air. Tears started streaming down my face and as I tried to catch my breath, I began crying harder. A couple of cars drove towards me and I did my best to hold it together, walking as fast as I could to get home. Once home, I collapsed onto our entryway bench and sobbed. I wanted my mom more than anything, but she wasn’t there.

I went into the house, knowing I needed to find something. I needed to see her, hear her – something. In my bedroom, I keep a box filled with letters and cards I have received over the years. I hastily opened it, as if I were looking for some lost treasure. I sorted through the cards and letters, opening them up, looking for her distinctive handwriting. And, finally, I found them. Towards the bottom, I found the card she had sent to me when I was in high school and she was away taking care of my grandpa; the card she had given me when I graduated with my master’s degree; all the cards and letters she had written me over the years. And, they all expressed the same thing – how much she loved me, how proud she was of me and the happiness she wished for me.

And, I felt myself breathe. I felt my body relax because this is what I had been looking for. This is what I had needed from her. She wasn’t physically there to give it to me, but she was there in spirit and memory. Her words spoke what she couldn’t physically say to me. And, I knew everything was going to be okay. I knew I was truly loved. And, I knew that she had loved me more in those short 27 years of my life before she died, than most people experience in a lifetime.

I am so grateful for those years.

I don’t share this because I want you to feel sorry for me. Far from it. I share this because this is what grief looks like. No matter how much time has gone by, it sneaks up on you and punches you in the gut when you’re least expecting it. I share this because this is the type of thing I used to drink over. I didn’t want to feel the pain and sadness and loneliness. I didn’t want to feel anything.

But, now, I don’t have to drink. I don’t have to keep shoving my feelings down, deeper and deeper. Because, the truth is, they never go away. Those feelings are always there. Now, I let myself feel. I cry because I’m sad and pissed off that my mom’s not here.

And, then I find ways to feel close to her. Because, she’s always with me; I just have to open myself up and look for her. And, there she is – just waiting to tell me she loves me.

 

 

 

And, God Said Be Still

Snow

On the 7th of this month, God said, be still. He said stop your busyness, throw away your to-do list, spend time with your family and just be. How did He do this? He sent snow. Lots and lots of snow. More snow than we’ve had in over five years. And, then He sent freezing rain. And, we were stuck. We were snowed in for three days. And, we were together.

On the first day, in the midst of my kids arguing, I said, God I don’t know if I can do this. And, I went downstairs (we have a daylight basement) and locked the door. I took some deep breathes and I prayed for patience. And, God said, you’ve got this. And, I did. That’s the thing about my God, He’s usually right.

The next day, it snowed a lot. As I stood in the kitchen cooking a big breakfast, looking out at the snow falling, I felt peace. Peace in the simplicity of a morning where we weren’t rushing out the door; or barking orders at each other. Peace in my children’s laughter and excitement over the new fallen snow. Peace in sitting with my husband, drinking our coffee and just being.

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We played, built snowmen and sledded down my in-law’s driveway. We didn’t need fancy sleds. Boxes worked just fine. We used my husband’s childhood sled to walk around the neighborhood, visiting friends along the way. It could have been anywhere; at any point in time. We were just a family – sledding, laughing and being together.

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Sledding

And, God said, Chenoa, I know you’re not a big board game player, but you’re going to play a game as a family, because, really, what else do you have to do that’s more important? And, so we played a game of Chutes and Ladders and we laughed. And, I said, okay God, that was fun but I’m pretty sure that game is rigged because every time you get to the top, you have to slide down one of those damn chutes and it’s impossible to win. And, He laughed, because He knows it’s true.

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We baked cookies, watched movies, did puzzles, danced and sang (I’m pretty sure my husband and I could both sing that “Frozen” song word for word). And, I didn’t worry about running out of wine – because before, that’s what I would’ve worried about. Because, before, that’s how I “coped” with my kids. Now, the only thing I worried about running out of was my coffee and Prozac. Because, God knows I need both of those to function. Yes, my God has a sense of humor.

And, in the silence of the snow, God said, this was good. This was good because it made you be still. That’s what I love about my God. He knows what I need, when I need it most.

Searching for You

Faithful God

As I sat in the church pew on Christmas morning, I noticed a young woman sitting alone in front of me to my left. I didn’t recognize her and she seemed a bit uncomfortable, maybe even nervous. She followed along with the mass, perhaps at one point in her life being familiar with it. She quietly sang along to the music, yet there was a sadness about her – a loneliness. To her right, sat a young woman and man in their early to mid-30s. I recognized the older woman they were sitting with as I knew she was a regular parishioner. I assumed it was her son and daughter or son and girlfriend. I couldn’t tell. They seemed disconnected, even bored. They went through the motions, but it was obvious they were there out of obligation. Probably in town for the holidays and fulfilling their obligatory “duty” to their mom.

As I observed both the young woman and the “couple” in front of me, I remembered having both those feelings of loneliness and disconnect. Only two years before I had sat in that same church feeling alone, empty and desperate. At the time, I had everything to live for – husband, children, family, friends – yet, inside I was like an empty vessel. I was searching and grasping for everything around me that I thought could fill the emptiness and silence the desperation I felt. I wanted so badly to feel on the inside the way people perceived me from the outside, but in reality I was sinking quietly into the loneliness and emptiness.

It wasn’t until two months later I would realize that what I had been searching for all along was right in front of me. My husband who would stand by me and hold me up when I couldn’t hold myself up, my children who would love me unconditionally and my church that would allow me to explore and question the God I had always been so scared of.

Now, almost two years later, as I sat in that church pew next to my daughter holding her new “Frozen” dolls and my husband holding our sleeping son, I felt the serenity, peace and joy that we often refer to as “The Promises” in recovery. I no longer felt alone, empty or disconnected from my life. I was filled with love, gratitude and gratefulness for a God who could make a broken person like myself whole again.

On New Year’s Eve, my husband and I will celebrate nine years of marriage – a marriage which could have easily ended two years ago.  In all my years of searching for happiness and contentment elsewhere, I was fortunate enough to find a man who would lay down his life for me, forgive me, love me when I was unlovable and walk with me through the pain, grief, anger and healing that it took to get to where we are now. I know he is a true gift from God. But, like all valuable gifts, I must treasure, protect and respect him and his love for me.

And that’s when I was searching, I’m not searching anymore
And that’s when I was learning about the things worth living for
Before I was open, before I knew I couldn’t live a day
Without you
Without you

Without you in the morning, to love me another day
Without you in the evening, when the colors start to fade
Without you on the plane ride to hold my hand and pray
Without you standing here when you could’ve walked away

Now I’m not searching, I’m not searching anymore
But I’m, I’m still learning ’bout the things worth living for
I am here, I am open, and now I know I couldn’t live a day
Without you
Without you

– From Holly Williams’ song “Without You”

Sometimes We Just Gotta Cry

Grief

Yesterday morning was tough. After my husband left to take the kids to the gym, I found myself on the couch sobbing because of how much I missed my mom. Some days are just like that.

I don’t write about my mom a lot. I don’t know why. Maybe because I hold her memory and my grief over losing her so close. She died of pancreatic cancer over seven years ago when I was pregnant with my first child. It was devastating and heartbreaking. Words can’t express the grief I felt then and continue to feel today. Time has helped in some ways, but in others it feels like just yesterday.

Like alcoholism, I’ve found that grief has triggers. My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and it’s a hard time for me. My mom loved birthdays and she especially loved celebrating mine, as I was her only child. From the time I can remember, she made it the most special day out of the entire year. It was magical. Since her death, it’s not the same. It will never be the same.

Yesterday, was also my daughter’s first slumber party and I yearned to share her excitement and mine with my mom. We used to talk daily, sometimes only for brief moments, but even those were important. She was my very best friend and we were just starting to get to know each other as adults, not just mother and child.

As I sat, crying on the couch, I thought of how much I missed her smile and laughter; the weekend visits; the shopping excursions; the times, as a grown woman, I would still lay my head on her lap while she ran her fingers through my hair. The simple truth is, I just miss having my mom. I miss the joy she would’ve brought to my children’s lives; I miss sharing exciting moments with her; I miss venting to her about life; I miss being able to ask her questions about my childhood, like how old I was when I had my first slumber party. Was I nervous? Scared?

And, sometimes I do get angry with God. I want to stomp my feet and beat my fists and yell, “Why God? Why?! It’s not fair!” And, now, instead of drowning that anger and sadness with alcohol, I let myself feel it – really feel it. I cry, sometimes weeping until my eyes are red and puffy.

And, then, eventually, I feel His calmness come over me. My tears are spent, but I feel a sense of peace because I have released everything. I have released the anger, sadness and fear and, instead, look to fill that space with joy.

Yesterday, I went to our back closet and got our wedding album down. The year before she was diagnosed with cancer, my mom had helped me plan my wedding and was overjoyed when the day finally arrived. It was beautiful and her smile was infectious.

I miss her. That will never change. But, I’m so grateful for the joy and beauty I find in her memory.

Cheers, Mom! I might not be drinking the real thing anymore, but I still celebrate you every day.

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Finding New Ways to Celebrate

Mom

Today is my mom’s birthday. If she were still alive, she would be 64. She died almost seven years ago from pancreatic cancer and not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and wonder how my life would be different if she was still here.

In the past, I used her birthday as an excuse to drink. Since she wasn’t around to celebrate, I figured I’d celebrate for both of us, which meant drinking more than I would normally drink. Now, I realize that I drank because I missed her and I wanted (or needed) to numb the sadness I felt in not having her with me. Instead of focusing on the beautiful life she led before leaving us, I focused on the grief of not having her with us.

Today, was the first time I have woken up on her birthday feeling peaceful and joyful. I still miss her horribly; more than I could ever convey through words. The pain runs deep and I know there will always be a piece of me missing. However, today I choose to focus on her beautiful life and celebrate it without drinking. I will be completely and totally present and focus on those things which she loved.

As I look out the window, I see the tulips beginning to show themselves and the daffodils beginning to bloom. Besides her family and animals, her greatest love was being in her garden. She loved this time of year; a new beginning as new life slowly appeared after a long, grey winter.

Earlier this morning, I sat down at my sewing machine and worked on my son’s new valances as I sipped my coffee and listened to one of her old records. She was an amazing seamstress; I only realize now just how good she was. My stitches are uneven and often messy. Her work was neat and precise, something that only comes with time and practice. I picture her smiling (and perhaps laughing) at my attempts, knowing in time I will figure it out.

This afternoon, I will take my son and daughter to frozen yogurt to celebrate Grammy Rickie’s birthday. It is important for me that they know that just because someone is gone, doesn’t mean we stop celebrating their life. In talking about her and celebrating her, I hope I can always honor her life and memory.

She wasn’t perfect. She had her demons as we all do. Her life was challenging at times; sometimes more than she thought she could handle. But, she did and she did it with grace, dignity and bravery.

Although, I lost her way too soon, I am so grateful I had her for the time I did. Would I change things if I could? Perhaps. But, I know that God needed her more than I did. Her strength and bravery continue to guide me on this journey through life.

And, when the time comes, and I see her again I will laugh with her about my messy and uneven seams.

Happy birthday, Mom!

Taking Inventory

No pictures, no quotes, no DIY, no recipes. Today, was one of those days I needed to write. I started this blog so I could have an outlet to share my experience; my story; my sober life. It’s my therapy; my free form of therapy if you will (I’ve had plenty of the kind you pay for too). Sometimes I just need to vent. You may or may not relate to everything I talk about, but my hope is we will all relate on the human level. The level of just living life.

The last few days I’ve been feeling icky. Not icky in the sense of being sick, but icky in the sense of feeling anxious, agitated and stressed. I’m quick to snap and the smallest thing can push me over the edge. Usually, I notice my OCD acting up and I immediately know something is “off.” For a recovering alcoholic this is not a good place to be because it lowers our defenses against that first drink. And, for us, there’s never “just one drink.” It’s a scary place to be, which is why when I start feeling this way I know it’s time to take inventory.

It’s kind of like when you lose your keys and you have to stop everything you’re doing and go back in your mind to where you last saw them. In a similar way, I have to stop and go back to what happened to make me feel this way. Once I started thinking about it, I realized it started on Monday. For some reason the kids were at each other all day on Monday. I felt like I was constantly playing referee. Monday night my husband had to work late, which meant I couldn’t make my favorite recovery meeting and he wouldn’t be home to put the kids down – something he does every night. On Tuesday morning, he had to leave before the kids got up, which meant the kids didn’t see him that morning either. By this time, our routine was completely off. For better or worse, we are very routine oriented people and anything that deviates from that routine tends to put us all on edge, especially me. So, there you go, I figured it out.

Now, what could I have done differently to change my reaction to the situation? I could’ve prepared better by talking to the kids about the fact that it was a busy time for Daddy and he would be gone more than normal; I could’ve asked my in-laws to watch the kids while I went to my meeting (because I really needed one); I could’ve called my sponsor when I first started feeling stressed (because that’s what you do); I could’ve read out of my recovery books; I could’ve said some extra prayers or opened my Bible. I could’ve and should’ve. The important point I’m trying to make is that, through recovery, I have learned how to STOP and take inventory. How am I feeling and how did I get here?

I tend to think it’s a great tool for everyone, regardless if you’re in a recovery program or not. How many times have we kept tumbling out of control, never stopping to ask ourselves “what is going on?” Taking inventory of your feelings doesn’t mean blaming someone else for the way you feel, it simply means reviewing how you got to where you are and, hopefully, learning ways to prevent it from happening next time.

Yes, I am a planner and I like routine, but as I always remind myself – life is not perfect. Things come up. Heck, life comes up! As long as I am prepared with the tools I need to approach the unexpected and spiritually fit, I can tackle what life throws my way. I truly believe God will not give me anything I can’t handle, including two strong-willed kids!

Thanks for letting me vent!

 

The Sky’s the Limit

Yesterday, my daughter and I embarked on our first mother-daughter trip. Our destination was San Jose to visit my grandpa who will be 93 in April. He’s amazing. He e-mails, Skype’s and still lives in the same house he built in the 1950s. I love him dearly and wanted my daughter, who is six, to have some quality time with him before it’s too late.

Although my daughter had been on a couple of flights as a toddler, she has no memory of them so was ecstatic to fly on a plane! She had her American Girl doll dressed, packed and ready to go in her carrying case last week. Hey, at least she plans ahead, right?!

Once on the plane, she was practically jumping out of her seat with excitement. I was looking forward to a fun and (hopefully) relaxing weekend away from the typical craziness of driving two kids to and from school and other activities. I might actually get to read those two magazines I got in the mail weeks ago!

As we settled in, I reached for the flight menu card to see what kind of soda they had as I had promised my daughter a “special drink” on the flight. And, then I saw it. I knew we were flying Horizon, and offshoot of Alaska Airlines, but had completely forgotten that on select Horizon flights they offer complimentary beer and wine – free wine and beer people! Before, when I was drinking, I would pray (well, not really) but seriously hope and wish that I would land on one of these flights when I flew somewhere. I had been on a couple and had thoroughly enjoyed them. Not to the extent like the guy who was duck taped to his seat on a flight a few weeks ago, but nonetheless REALLY enjoyed them!

I looked over the selections of the “monthly” wine and beer. Today they were featuring a new chardonnay – my drink of choice. I thought how different it would be if I was still drinking. I would have no problem taking advantage of the complimentary part of this deal. I was on vacation; I wasn’t driving once we landed – all the more reason to live it up!

When the drink cart made its way toward us from the back of the plane, I contemplated what I would order. The cart arrived and there it stood, five inches from my face – a beautiful, unopened bottle of chardonnay. I quickly ordered a soda for my daughter and one for myself. However, I was overly aware of what others ordered around me. Wasn’t anyone going to have a glass of wine? Heck, it was already noon – let the party begin! We were sitting toward the back of the plane, so the cart slowly made its way to the front and then back again. As it passed us for the second time, I took stock of the wine. Are you kidding me?! Only half the bottle was gone! Are you people crazy?! It’s free wine! Drink up! Finally, the two gay guys sitting behind us ordered a glass each. Well, at least they’re taking advantage of it. But, seriously, one glass. What’s the point.

Yes, this is how my mind works. This is the mind of an alcoholic.

I’m not going to lie. The very briefest thought crossed my mind of how easy it would be to “just have one.” No one knows me on the plane; my daughter is much to young to really “get it.” But, then, reality set back in and I looked at my daughter in her pure joy and excitement and thought “who am I kidding?” This is my life. Right here, right now. This beautiful little girl sitting beside me, anticipating this fun and exciting trip with her Mommy. They can take their complimentary wine and beer and shove it. There is no free drink in this world that is worth sacrificing everything I have, right here in front of me.