The Motherflippin’ Wine Bitch

I was handed an opened, but still nearly full bottle of Sancerre as I walked out of the office door yesterday afternoon. It was left over from a tasting I’d missed, and my boss thought I’d like it, given I’m “Mrs Sauvignon Blanc”.  Three small people were waiting to be collected from school, so I didn’t have the time or the energy to explain why I didn’t want this, in a diplomatic enough way not to cause my boss to start doubting my commitment to his company.  Oh but I’ve been so FUCKING TEMPTED by this thing, this poxy ready-opened bottle of fermented grape-widdle. It was speaking in tongues to me all the way home. My hind-brain has been busily working on ALL of the reasons and excuses it can find which would give me permission to pop the cork out and pour a big old glass.

I think the temptation was compounded by the fact that Mr Red was out last night with a mutual friend drinking beers and “having fun”. Like we used to. I even sent him a photo of the bottle, saying it was calling my name, half hoping he’d say “go for it, you deserve it” and half praying he’d say “Red, step away from the bottle, you know there’s only trouble for you there, girl”.

Instead, he sent a non-committal “looks good”. Which I now know was more due to the fact he’d nearly lost the use of his fingers by that point in the evening, but still, it was no bloody help whatsoever.

I ended up filling my face with pizza whilst watching Moana with my daughter. I’m not the biggest Disney fan, but anything with Jermaine Clement in it can’t be all bad, and by the end, I predictably couldn’t give two shits about the wine anymore, and was extremely glad I’d not caved in.

Trouble is, I’m going through exactly the same thing again tonight. Same thought-churning. I’ve been at a kids party, with a load of people I used to drink with, other mums, and we were organising our Christmas night out. I’m questioning everything again. Mr Red is out again tonight, up at our friends house, having a boys night with two of the other school dads; part of a party-gang I was so recently the ringleader of.

How am I perceived by these guys now, is Mr Red the subject of pity, because his previously fun-loving (read booze-loving) party animal of a wife, who could drink the boys under the table, has gone all vanilla and boring?

At the twins birthday party last week, amidst all the chaos and sausage rolls, I found myself being interrogated again by a few people asking me if I was still “on the wagon”, with amazement and confusion, as if I’d announced I’d joined an obscure cult, rather than simply stopping ingesting an addictive substance which is bad for your health. I know this reaction is mostly down to the fact a light is being shined on their own drinking by my abstinence, but it’s starting to make me quite angry.

So again, tonight, I’ve fed myself, put my PJ’s on, made myself a cup of tea the size of my head, and ignored the siren calls of that twatty wine.

Who’d have thought that this simple act of kindness by my boss, this one silly bottle could cause such turmoil in me? And why now? And why the jiggins, you may ask yourself, haven’t I just poured the bastard thing down the sink?

I’m going to pour myself a Brewdog Raspberry Blitz in a nice glass, find a film to watch, and remember that for the last 111 days..

  • I’ve felt some self-esteem.
  • I’m less anxious. In fact not at all anxious.
  • I’ve exercised almost every day, and reaped all of the benefits of this in head and body.
  • I’ve lost the stone in weight I’ve carried around since pregnancy, and I feel stronger every day.
  • I am a vastly better parent.
  • I am on fire at work, and have remembered that I have a brain.

Fuck off, wine. Don’t need you.

Red xx

 

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The Hundred – redux

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I am most pleased to announce, I have just made it to 100 days AF… for the second time ever since I began trying this on for size back in December 2015. (Holy cow, is it really three years!? WTF etc)

It was at this point last time that I came up with the incredibly addled idea that I’d only gone and cured myself, proved I didn’t have a “problem” and could now drink like a normal person. That obviously worked out brilliantly, but at least I proved my point, I suppose. The point being, alcohol and I do not play nicely. Therefore it’s for the best if we’re put in separate playpens. Permanently.

I am celebrating my 100 tonight by accidentally being in the midst of party planning hell, as I’m self-catering a large birthday party for about 30 x 6 year olds at the weekend. At least now my focus for the day is that my twins have a fun birthday to remember, rather than working out when I can legitimately start drinking. Because getting shit-faced is such a fabulous reward, eh? I do have a large box of Hotel Chocolat to open though, and I’m going to eat the fucking lot whilst lying decadently in bed later. That’ll be in the hour I get before I have to go to sleep in time to get up at 5.50am to exercise, which is just how I roll these day, because, you know, The Energy.

I’ve noticed an amazing shift in the last three years, the sober movement is growing quickly, almost snowballing recently, and I love it. I love that I’m breaking free from the idea that Mummy needs a faceful of wine to bear parenting on a day-to-day basis.

Life feels SO good at 100 this time. I’m excited to see what SoberMummy’s Field of Bunnies holds in store for me. Please cheer me on for the next 100, if you will!

Red xx

 

 

 

First Monday Off – part 2

Ironically titled, given it’s Wednesday, (I think).

Mondays are SO much better now. I’m productive. I’ve even started clearing out the “Loft of Doom”, which contains the accumulated crap of three generations, plus The Ark Of The Covenant somewhere at the back. I’m in full on cleaning-catharsis mode, nothing is safe from the charity bag. Leave it lying around out of place for more than 5 minutes? In it goes…

I’m also exercising. AT 6AM, PEOPLE!!! EVERY MOTHERFLIPPING DAY.

Oh yeah, watch me go. Clothes are becoming baggy, I love it. I have some energy, what a novelty!

I’ve even managed to watch two seasons of The Leftovers without passing out in any episodes, and having to ask Mr Red repeatedly to give me in depth plot summaries.

So far, so good. Day 59, going strong, eating biscuits & drinking Yorkshire Tea. Made with two bags, because I like to live on the edge, folks..

Love, Red xx

 

 

First Monday Off – Part 1

Today’s my first monday since the Glorious Holidays where the Redlets are all at school, and I’m not working. I started working full-time hours crammed into 4 days, earlier in the year. The plan was to use this spare day to get on top of house-shit, exercise, and have the odd appointment at the doctors/dentist/waxing torture-chamber of horrors etc etc.

In practice, what this has meant is that I had an excuse to get roaringly shitfaced on a Sunday, probably starting mid-afternoon (because one must have wine with Sunday dinner, yah?) and ending up with me shuffling round to school the next day like a puffy-faced zombie, trying not to throw up on fellow parents, praying the teacher wouldn’t chat to me (fumes! argh!) and then shambling back home to flap around the house like a demented chicken, mostly panicking about getting f*ck-all done, whilst simultaneously managing to feel stressed and busy. And nauseous.

I’m going to write part 2 of this post tonight, when I can give a full review of the sober version of this. It’s already going well, I’m on the sofa with this guy

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drinking coffee and feeling like I’m not going to hurl. Go me!

Red xx

 

Willpower?

IMG_20180907_075323_012Loving the light on these trees this morning. It’s only the carpark at my work, in Yorkshire, but it’s beaut. When people have reacted to the news that I’m not drinking with the old “well why don’t you just have one or two?”, I’ve been answering that it’s because I have no willpower. I can’t “just have one”. (I just love that people ask this by the way; seriously, d’you NOT THINK I’ve explored that option?? I’ve explored it till I can’t fucking see straight..)

Newsflash. I do have willpower, and lots of it. Evidence of this; I am on day 40 sober today.

Enjoy your Friday, folks.
Red xx

Escape route closed

I’m feeling more self-aware this time, I hope that’s good thing. So much of my drinking is in response to a feeling of overwhelm in my life – and without it, I can feel like there’s no escape. I managed to get through it yesterday by just thinking “Stop. What the fuck actually needs to be done today?” And then concentrating on that. I’m getting slightly better at viewing feelings like this from the outside, which helps to dispel them. As does remembering the sage advice of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy..

A small list of achievements in the last few days:

1) Had a lovely wedding anniversary, I can remember the very expensive meal I ate, and I didn’t puke anywhere. Bonus!

2) Nearly got cigarettes. I don’t even smoke (well, only when drunk). Decided to wait it out, and lo & behold, the craving buggered off.

3) Saturday morning football – up and ready by 8.30am to take the kids to a new footy club. This would not have happened full stop if I’d boozed. I’m particularly pleased as they have a girls team – my daughter is at the point where she needs to  either go down the dance or the sport route. I’m trying to encourage sport. Because, well, have you SEEN Little Miss Sunshine?

4) School Mum’s night out done.  At a local craft beer bar, where there was a DJ night. It was hard, and I had to explain why I wasn’t drinking many, many times, but hey, I nearly danced, and it was 70’s soul and disco, so that’s a minor miracle for me (one of my least favourite genres of music, only surpassed by the horror that is jazz). I noticed that I’m massively irritated by drunk people. But then, I was probably one of the worst culprits, before.

5) BBQ at our house with our booziest friends. And seven feral children, running round screaming with lightsabers, glowsticks, and a foam-covered slip-n-slide. Friends all brought lots of booze, but also kindly brought me non-alcoholic beer and cake treats. And right now, I’m up and I feel fucking great, where Mr Red is still in bed snoring.

So where’s the Red who used to party backstage at festivals, and bugger off to NYC to see her boyfriends band playing CBGB? And nearly get barred from flights home for being falling-down drunk? Well folks, she’s having a day at home, ironing name labels into a mountain of school uniform, and mainlining nespresso coffee. And she’ll bloody enjoy it!

Red xx

Testing my “muscles”

Today has been tricky. On the one hand, I’m celebrating a month sober. Yay! Go me!

On the other hand, I had to taste 6 different wines at work today, all of which were amazing Cali- reds, which former-Red would have hoovered up in a state of sheer bliss.  However, I spat like a true professional, and didn’t even let a trickle of the bastard devil-juice slip down my throat.

To add insult to injury, I was then packed off home with the rest of the bottles in a cardboard box, with which to kick-start my wedding anniversary celebrations tomorrow.. “you can drink them in the hot tub!!” called my colleague after me, as I clanked my way across the carpark.

Bringing me onto point 3. (Or the third hand?? Hmm). Tomorrow is my 5th wedding anniversary. Mr Red and I are heading to a delightful boutique hotel, where traditionally we spend the afternoon getting totally smashed in a hot tub,  and then continuing to get even further smashed in the amazing fish restaurant, whilst pretending (badly) to be respectable grown-ups.

How am I supposed to do this sober, in the face of such tradition?? What the chuff will I do in the ruddy hot-tub for 4 hours?

Help! I’m off to look at my sleeping children, and remind myself why the hell I’m doing this.

Red xx