Alcohol as Mindfulness?

When I met my biological mom, she was wearing a bathing suit and a skirt. It was 10am and she was clearly drunk and had a beer in her purse. I had been warned that she was an alcoholic, couldn’t function without it in her system, and hadn’t held down a job forever because of the detoxing seizures and her inability to drive.

Last year my biological dad got a DUI, and felt shitty about it because I had recently told him that I was so glad that he was a ‘normal’ grandparent for Brewer. His daily drinking of a few beers was more on par with a blue collar norm than a ‘problem,’ though maybe there’s some justification going on…because anyone can have a problem once and not have an overall disease. But, I digress.

They say alcoholism is genetic.

I didn’t drink until I was 21 because of my ultra religious upbringing and my fear of the adoption unknown. I actually remember telling someone when I was younger that the reason I wouldn’t do drugs or alcohol is because I think I would like it too much. That’s deep for a tween, ya know?

All across time and space, people have been using substances to alter their experience. Beer has been around since cavemen, and has its place historically in so many ways. Little kids spin around and get dizzy, altering their experience, and we daydream or smoke pot or take peyote or chew chat or sniff poppies (yes, I know that’s not exactly how it works) to alter our experience.

And then there’s mindfulness. Meditation. To alter our experience of the moment, our relationship to the future and the past and our thoughts. It’s a mind altering way of being in the world. And one that I really intend to embrace in my life.

But can I be honest here? It’s busy season in the accounting world, and I haven’t seen my husband for close to 8 weeks because of it. He leaves at 6:30 and gets home at 8, except on Saturdays when he’s home by 6. I’m exhausted. And with only 1 kid, and a full-time(ish) job, I am often one straw away from the camel’s back breaking and crumbling all over itself.

The other day, Boof was teasing me about all the mimosas I’ve been drinking. And I got butthurt. Because it’s a sore spot for me. When I started drinking in college I had zero tolerance and would get blackout drunk. But I hated the feeling and so it only happened a handful of times. It’s been years trying to figure out how much is enough to just have a buzz and not obsess about wanting more and more and more.

His comment hit a nerve. I don’t like that I am excited to pour the OJ and champagne on a Friday morning with Potamus. I know enough about mental illness and alcoholism to know that I should be careful. And I am. I think. The nervousness and monitoring of my level of tolerance, desire, defensiveness as a coping mechanism are healthy. But it’s hard. Because alcohol is like mindfulness. There’s that sweet spot, when I haven’t overindulged, and I can focus on the present moment. I tell my students about the ‘beer goggle’ effect, and how more suicides and other issues happen under the influence, because we don’t have the ability to long-range think. But honestly, that’s kinda what I’m going for. Because I don’t want to sit on my couch watching another episode of toddler TV and think “3 more weeks of this.” That’s so fucking overwhelming to me. The fact that he was running 45 minutes late last night was so fucking overwhelming to me.

And mindfulness is good and all, but honestly, alcohol is quicker. Maybe someday I’ll be a mindful yogi who doesn’t have a glass of wine, or a few beers, at night to try and hang on for the next few hours until bedtime and daddy’s home. I know I’ve been there before. I know this is a difficult time for us as a family.

Drinking is a hot topic among the parenting community. Do you imbibe? Know others who do? What influences your decisions to drink or not?

Church & The Working Mother

Most Christian women I know are stay-at-home mothers, or, at most, work-from-home mothers with lots of support from nearby family or in-home nanny/babysitters. I have seen them write posts on Facebook and talk about how lovely going to church is on Sunday as a family, and all the support they’ve felt from their congregation in being mothers. And, that’s where I get a little jealous, or at best, have mixed emotions.

Because that hasn’t been my experience, at all. Getting to church on Sunday is hard, and has happened a handful of times since Potamus was born almost 2 years ago. It was easy when he was a super-new infant, and I could nurse in the pew when he got fussy, or sway in the pews to the “contemporary” (aka 90’s maranatha songs) worship music. But since he’s been mobile, we haven’t been back more than 3 times.

I was talking to a friend about it this week, and she said “church is hard for working mothers. My kid is in daycare 5 days a week, I want to be with him, not pass him off to someone else.” And that, in a nutshell, summed up everything I had been saying in private to Boof, and feeling, since the beginning. Because it is hard for my kid to adjust to his daycare, which he now goes 4 days a week. For him to adjust to a new nursery provider, for 1.5 hours on Sunday seems a bit much. How many weeks would he cry in this new place before he got used to it? And would it be worth it?

And while I only work 4 days a week, those precious family moments in the morning, are some of my favorite. We’ve tried church recently and found that either one or both of us would have to leave with Potamus about half way through the service. Not only do I struggle with feeling whether or not church is relevant to my life anyway, I wonder, is it really relevant to my life as a mother? Because the church we attend doesn’t have many children, so to dump Potamus off with the 17 year old nursery assistant seems less-than-ideal. It makes me wonder, are churches using an outdated model of childcare as a relief for mothers who are with their children all week?

It feels like we’re doing it wrong. Like this division of children and adults is outdated and doesn’t serve parents who don’t see their children all week. I don’t have answers, but watching football, in our jammies, in the sunshine-filled comfort of our own home, with our child playing at our feet, feels much more ‘spiritual’ than singing songs and worrying if Potamus is doing okay in the church version of daycare. Ya know?

In Mathew 19:4, Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”  I just don’t feel like Jesus meant let children come to church and then hide away in a back room chewing on legos and doing flannel board. Maybe I’m wrong, but that doesn’t seem to be what this verse is saying…

Thoughts? Do you go to church or another religious service? Are children welcome in the service or in their own separate place?

Jealous Mothers

I think we need to invent a specific word to describe the jealousy of mothers. Or maybe more accurately, the jealousy of mothers with grandchildren. Because I am about ready to pop my mom and my mother-in-law in the face if they don’t get their shit figured out. I mean, seriously, their mutual jealousy is driving me batshit crazy.

It started a few weeks ago, when I was explaining to my mom why we were looking at non-home daycares, stating, “Potamus has a grandma, and a mom and dad, to watch him” but before I could even finish the sentence she inserted, “he has another grandma, too.”

face, meet palm.

Seriously? Yes mom, I know he has “two” grandmas (though if we are really being honest, he has FOUR grandmas since I am adopted, but I let that part slide), but if you would have let me finish the sentence it was about primary caregivers. I’m sorry that she made the choice to stay living 25o miles away and my mother-in-law is right down the street, but I can’t do anything about that.

THEN, my second sister-in-law got married and my mom said, ‘I don’t know, is MB (my mother-in-law) stressed, because I tried to say “hi” to her and she didn’t respond, but she gave your dad a hug.”

Seriously.

WTF.

My mother-in-law is the mom of the bride, probably not in the best frame of mind to be chit-chatting and worrying about my mom’s feelings on the matter. But, to try and nip that nonsense in the bud, Boof had a wee chat with his mom about making extra sure that my mom feels included in stuff.

BUT THEN, after the wedding shenanigans were through, MB comes to me and says, “I’m not bothered by it, but your dad says that your mom is going by grammy, so I guess I will go by Grandma Lastname.”
(which is the most martyeriest thing she could say, because she originally told us she HATED that name.)

Seriously. It’s like being in freaking junior high, and I have less patience now for that kind of drama. Who the fuck cares if Potamus calls you BOTH grammy? Why does it matter? Why all the jealousy and insecurity?

AND THEN, in reference to my 30th and Potamus’s 1st birthday party in my hometown, my mom made a snide remark about “I hope it’s okay we just to a family dinner. That’s how we do it,” which was clearly referencing my in-laws (who have more money) who go out to eat a lot. GAH! I’m about to pull my hair out.

On my mom’s end, it seriously feels like she is having those child-feelings that I had because of adoption. It feels like she now understands what it is like to worry that someone (me) is going to leave and not think of her as family anymore. But I don’t know what the deal is with my mother-in-law, but at this rate I am getting VERY annoyed about the prospect of having to deal with it all on Thanksgiving. I want them to just communicate, work it out, and hell, maybe even let Potamus pick his own name for you all. My pick, right now,  is Beavis and Butthead.