It’s only Wednesday and it’s been a rough week already. Like, a bottle of wine for supper and a Jack
on the rocks for dessert rough. It’s
nights like these that I’m grateful for the low-key life parenthood has
bestowed upon us; O goes to bed and Tots watches some tv show while I lose
myself in a world of Pinterest and décor blogs.
For an hour or so I can leave my worries and stresses behind and let my
mind wander wherever it wants to.
Five years ago, a night like this would’ve looked totally
different. 21-year-old Jessie would’ve
come home, called Tots, and told him to meet her at the bar ‘cause she’s
drinking her supper tonight. Today’s
Jessie is old enough (dare I say, mature enough?) to know that tomorrow won’t
be pretty if she doesn’t at least eat something with her booze-dinner. In fact, I’m wise enough to know that if I
have more than five drinks, I might not even see tomorrow-- at least not until well after early afternoon.
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