Cheap and Easy: A Husband's Delight

I haven't done much blogging since Wednesday morning. Truth be told, it is hard to read, write or even sit up right when your blood has been thinned the night before with some wonderfully yummy red wine. To say I have enjoyed my mommy juice these past evenings would be a small understatement. A more accurate description would be that I seemed to have fallen into a vat of grape juice and am slowly drinking my way out. With a straw. I enjoy my wine. But to be honest, (and in case the adoption people are reading) I don't like drinking when Boo is not home. I'm a fairly easy drunk. Wait, that came out wrong. Actually, it's fairly accurate. But I meant to say I have a low tolerance for alcohol and I can't handle my booze. I'm a cheap drunk.

Cheap and easy. No wonder Boo loves me so much. Hee hee.

Without a responsible adult in the house, I don't feel right about imbibing in one of my favorite pleasures. Instead, I pour cranberry juice into a goblet and imagine I'm drinking a fine merlot. The risk of having something happen to one of my kids and not being able to drive them to the hospital is not a risk I'm willing to take. And we all know that I have had to make that scary trip, alone and in the middle of the night, once before. Although, with that particular outcome, perhaps the mommy juice would have helped. Sigh.

So I have been taking advantage of my husband's layover. (Wow, so many innuendos in one little sentence.) The moment my darling Fric and Frac touch their pretty little blonde heads to the pillow, the cork has been popping around here. I am fairly certain if I were to line the empty bottles up in a row I would be very embarrassed. And the adoption people would send me a therapist instead of a child. Ahem.

But I feel justified in my love of the juice. I work hard at raising these children into sassy, obstinate, lazy, smart, curious and industrious little people. With little help from the outside world. And it isn't often that I get a chance to relax, unwind and depend on someone else for a little backup.

And let's be honest, the kidlets are so damn happy to see their dad, they have abandoned me to my kool-aid and have clung to their father like a burr on a dog. Hee hee. Not that I'm enjoying that or anything. Not at all. Who knew how easy this parenting gig could be when there are two parents under one roof? I can paint my toenails and balance a plate on my nose at the same time, because Fric and Frac have zero interest in me.

Poor Boo. Hee hee.

I know the reality is those children are thrilled their dad is home because it means they will finally get a home cooked meal, not one out of a can or a box, but I am willing to take what respite is offered. And if it is offered in the way of a nice bottle of red, who am I to turn it down? After all, everyone benefits. Mommy's happy, Daddy's happy, and the kids, well, to be honest, in my alcoholic haze I sort of forget that I have them, but I'm sure they are happy too.

Only one problem with Boo being home.

He will leave again. And the wine run will inevitably end. I'll have to put the corkscrew away, and lock the liquor cabinet. Because it's hard to operate a can opener and a microwave when buzzed.

And with my fine parenting skills, those are two tools of modern day convenience I can't live without.

Otherwise, we'd all starve around here.