Reasons Mommy Drinks
Page 9
INGREDIENTS
Wedges of lime
Sugar
1 ounce Southern Comfort
1 ounce lime juice
Splash of grenadine
INSTRUCTIONS
Rim a glass with a lime wedge, then sugar, and fill the glass with ice. Combine the Southern Comfort, lime juice, and grenadine in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass. Garnish with a lime wedge.
NOTE
It’s the next best thing to the sound of the airport taxi pulling out of the driveway.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Mommy Fear (MF) is a type of anxiety disorder characterized by crippling paranoia when her baby is not around. MF symptoms manifest when the sufferer is torn from chubby little arms to go to work or a scheduled “I hope Daddy’s too tired for sex afterward” date night. Plagued with the fear that no one can offer better child care than she, the MF sufferer conjures up elaborate scenarios that could be playing out in her absence. In an MFer’s rational (and in no way neurotic bordering on psychotic) mind, the day care is a covert meth lab, the babysitter is sexting her math teacher, Grandma’s gratuitous use of ketchup is causing early-onset diabetes, and Daddy’s playing Words with Friends when he’s supposed to be watching the baby not eat poison. MF presents in many ways, including compulsively checking one’s iPhone and leaving the ringer on high at all times, much to the chagrin of everyone else everywhere. The MF cycle continues well past the toddler stage, peaking during teenage years and lasting forever. Daddy should not attempt to tell the sufferer “Don’t worry, the baby’s fine,” as this could result in his immediate castration. Though MF symptoms can be managed with secret teddy bear cams and hourly FaceTime checkins, they will never abate. Studies suggest that Mommy will always worry about her child. Always.
INSTRUCTIONS
Take a deep breath and enjoy a crisp Chardonnay or whatever the host is pouring. Enjoy as much of the glass as you can until MF takes over and you have to leave the dinner party.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Since your birth, Mommy’s formerly enviable social calendar has been reduced to a collection of Playdates. The Playdate forces Mommy to hang out with parents she would usually avoid eye contact with, just because their kids happen to be your age. Occasionally they give Mommy a chance to hang out with parents she likes but whose kids are a few short years away from Ritalin and a stint at Betty Ford. Going on the Playdate does have its perks, such as sizing up other people’s kitchen renos and snooping through their bedrooms while “getting lost” en route to the bathroom. At the Playdate, a children’s meal is usually served, which is a reflection of the host’s parenting choices. Like the “I do whatever my kid wants” Mom who serves Nutella Pringle sandwiches on Wonderbread. Or the “I’ll be shipping my kid off to boarding school soon” Mom who has the whole affair catered. Whatever the menu, Mommy discreetly steals food off your Toy Story 2 plate because for some reason no one ever feeds the grown-ups. Eventually, Mommy has to reciprocate and host the Playdate. This. Blows. Mommy’s house is left looking like a Fisher-Price bomb went off in her living room, her Terrapin Green feature wall has been rendered Crayola Corner, and her IKEA cabinetry will never close properly again. The Playdate is also known colloquially as the Sharing of Germs, so Mommy gets to play nursemaid for the forty-eight vomit-filled hours that follow. Yay.
INGREDIENTS
1 ounce light rum
4 ounces ginger ale
INSTRUCTIONS
Fill a glass with ice. Pour in the rum and ginger ale, and stir.
NOTE
The ginger ale will help calm your churning stomach while you dig half-chewed raisins out of the living room carpet later that night.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Mommy’s knowledge of contemporary music ended the day you were born. She’s praying the “Apple Bottom Jeans” song by Florida (Editor’s note: it’s “Low” by Flo Rida) becomes a classic ASAP so that her iTunes library will be relevant again. Until then, she’ll have to rely on discreetly using Shazam at parties to avoid looking like a complete tool. Wait, is tool still cool? (Editor’s note: no.) Daddy is no help either because his selection of music is comprised exclusively of early 1980s hair bands. At work, Mommy overheard some twenty-somethings talking about Cee Lo Green and she thought it was an STD. Her iPod is now playlist after playlist of the saccharine sounds of The Wiggles. Whyyyyyy do you want to hear the same song over and over and over again? “The Wheels on the Bus” drive Mommy insane, all around the town. Even the Babies Go Pearl Jam CD is making her ears bleed. If she has to hear “Even Flow” played on a glockenspiel one more time, she might go crazier than when Jeremy spoke in class today! (Halfhearted high five for quoting lyrics from the album Ten, which came out in 1991.) The only time she’ll be exposed to new artists now is when they guest perform on Sesame Street. Mommy can’t wait until you become a teenager so at least she’ll know what’s hip when she bangs on your door and yells at you to “Turn it down!”
INGREDIENTS
Wedge of lime
Sugar
1 ounce light rum
4 ounces white grape juice
INSTRUCTIONS
Rim a martini glass with a lime wedge and then sugar. Combine the rum and grape juice in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass. Serve with Baby Beluga caviar.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
In a past, hedonistic life, dropping $200 on a menu awash with quail egg, duck-olive paste, and basil-leaf-infused martinis at the hottest new eatery was a surefire remedy for the soul-sucking effects of a fifty-hour workweek. Even though the Calista Flockhart–portion size meant a pizza run three hours later, it was worth it. Adorned with mason jar glassware, chalkboard menus, and beardy servers in skinny jeans, a baby would be as out of place in these bistros as an affordable bottle of wine. Which is why nowadays, on those nights when figuring out a meal plan is as overwhelming as working the Apple TV, Mommy’s restaurant criteria have taken a dramatic turn from her pre-baby tastes. Nowadays, parking is mandatory, as are automatic double doors to accommodate the stroller carrying you and half your toy box. Bonus points for a dining area filled with the deafening sounds of a Michael Bolton/Screaming Children mash-up and a menu featuring photos of the entrées. Two minutes after placing their order, Mommy and Daddy’s meals arrive so fried they can’t tell who ended up with the chicken and who got the fish. No one bats an eye as you fling pieces of your hormone-infused hamburger patty from your high chair and spill milk all over the brown paper tablecloth, dissolving the server’s name written in crayon. In fact, most of the parents at surrounding tables just seem thrilled that their own badly behaved child is now sharing the spotlight with you. Even though the only common ingredient between family chain restaurants and hipster hot spots is a shamelessly overpriced menu, walking away from the mess you’ve left in your wake makes every penny well spent.
INGREDIENTS
A bottomless glass of fountain cola
NOTE
Free refills = a Mommy do.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Before you were born, mornings looked liked this:
7:15 AM: Alarm goes off. Snooze for fifteen minutes.
7:30 AM: Blend a smoothie. Enjoy while surfing Facebook in front of The Today Show.
7:45 AM: Take an extralong hot shower. With Daddy.
8:00 AM: Blow-dry and style hair.
8:15 AM: Experiment with a daytime smoky eye look.
8:30 AM: Begin morning subway commute. Listen to a downloaded TED talk.
9:00 AM: Settle into desk and brace for a day of trying to be awesome at everything.
And this is how mornings look now:
6:00 AM: You go off.
6:05 AM: Your entire toy box is now on the floor.
7:05 AM: Your entire breakfast is now on the floor.
8:05 AM: Your entire wardrobe is now on the floor.
8:10 AM: Get showered, dressed, mad
e up, fed, and caffeinated in ten minutes because Daddy has to leave early for another “very important meeting.”
8:20 AM: Mommy’s entire wardrobe is now on the floor.
8:25 AM: You are having a temper tantrum on the floor.
8:30 AM: Walk you to day care. You burst into hysterical tears upon entering the building.
8:40 AM: Pry you from leg. Mascara ruined.
8:45 AM: Begin morning subway commute. Write a grocery list, reapply mascara, feel guilty, cram for Big Important Meeting, remember six critical things that were not relayed to Daddy about this evening’s post–day care logistics.
9:15 AM: Settle into desk and brace for a day of trying to be awesome at everything.
INGREDIENTS
A shot of espresso in a tall mug of regular-brewed coffee, with sugar to taste
NOTE
Pair with CoverGirl LashBlast waterproof mascara.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Once upon a time, going to a wedding without a plus one was as excruciating as The Hangover: Part III. But tonight, with you in tow, Mommy finds herself staring longingly at the Singles Table. She recalls with fondness an era when the evening’s biggest challenge would entail rejecting the advances of the groom’s socially awkward cousin. Tonight it’s all about keeping you quiet and ensuring your adorable outfit doesn’t fall victim to poo leakage, as the only backup attire in the diaper bag is a Onesie imprinted with “I only cry when ugly people hold me” in Comic Sans. Between investing in a “cocktail chic” outfit you’ll never wear again and padding her gift envelope with an extra Benjamin, this is turning out to be a very costly affair. Mommy used to take secret comfort in the fact that she would more than pay out her wedding-gift expenditure in Champagne consumption by the night’s end. But tonight she’ll be lucky if she manages to scarf down two bites of her rubber tofu steak (she ordered salmon), let alone participate in open-bar-fueled shenanigans on the dance floor, which always used to end with Daddy wearing his Hugo Boss tie around his head and screaming “Play Thunderstruck!” Besides, if she and Daddy don’t get you back to the hotel room by 8 PM, it will be a contest between you and the bride to see who melts down first. Truthfully, once the cake is cut, Mommy’s more than ready to hit the sack after an evening spent whisking you outside every ten minutes and trying to restrain you from throwing macaroons into the mother of the bride’s decorative hat. If only Mommy and Daddy were the ones Hawaii bound tomorrow morning.
INGREDIENTS
1½ ounces vanilla vodka
½ ounce coconut rum
1½ ounces pineapple juice
½ ounce cranberry juice
INSTRUCTIONS
Chill a martini glass. Combine all the ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass.
NOTE
Missed the wedding cake? Don’t despair. All the taste and zero mess. Just say yes!
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Mommy firmly believes you are exhibiting early signs of genius and are destined to solve the world’s dependence on oil or win the Jeopardy! Tournament of Champions. The problem is other parents also feel that way about their own kids, even though clearly some of the graduating class from this reach-for-the-middle generation will be your future employees. Their behavior is a reflection of questionable child-rearing approaches, like the “let my kid do whatever while I check my stocks on my smartphone” method. Mommy passes judgment silently from the sidelines of the sandbox (or very vocally when she’s had wine with Daddy). Although socialization is key to your development, the following toddler types should be avoided whenever possible:
The Biter: No one wants baby rabies. Does BabyBjörn make a muzzle?
The Screamer: Exacerbates Mommy’s permanent postnatal headache.
The Crier: Even a light breeze results in tears.
The Suck: Always clinging. No adult conversation possible. Cut the umbilical cord!
The Bully: Pushes, grabs, yells, steals. Future drug dealer or investment banker.
The Show Kid: Needs to be center of attention at all times. Has a British accent?
The Germ Harborer: Just gross.
The Perfect Angel: Also to be avoided. Should you cry, scream, break things, or do anything else a normal toddler does, the Perfect Angel’s mother will lose her shit.
INGREDIENTS
2 ounces gin
Splash of dry vermouth
Twist of lemon
INSTRUCTIONS
Chill a martini glass. Combine the gin and vermouth in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass. Garnish with a lemon twist. Drink in honor of your Perfect Angel, whom other parents are judging behind your back.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Much like there are certain toddlers who should be avoided whenever possible, so are there red-flag Mommy types:
The Biter: Sleep deprivation has taken its toll on this caustic Mommy. Even comments about the weather are interpreted as a personal attack on her parenting method.
The Screamer: Can someone please anonymously send this woman a copy of The Baby Whisperer?
The Crier: “Being a parent is just (sniff) like so amazing, you know?”
The Suck: Her incessant whining about lack of sleep, financial woes, and laundry is sucking Mommy’s will to live. P.S., We’re all in the same boat!
The Bully: Regularly clad in a “Breast is Best” T-shirt, she gets her high off shoving Dr. Sears down other Mommies’ throats while shoving mini-quiches down hers.
The Show Mom: Constantly brags about her child’s walk-on role in local car dealership commercial. Always dissatisfied with head-shot photographers in this city. Has a British accent?
The Germ Harborer: Just gross.
The problem is, Mommy falls into at least three of these categories on any given day, depending on which way the hormonal winds happen to be blowing, which is probably why her in-box is no longer overflowing with playdate invitations.
INGREDIENTS
¾ ounce lemon juice
½ ounce grenadine
½ ounce simple syrup
Lemon-lime soda
Soda water
INSTRUCTIONS
Fill a glass with ice. Pour in the lemon juice, grenadine, and simple syrup. Top off with equal parts of lemon-lime soda and soda water.
NOTE
Socially acceptable to consume alone.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Mommy and her girlfriends decide it’s time to pay tribute to their single days by delegating child care to the Daddies and painting the town red. Emails about logistics flood Mommy’s in-box for three weeks leading up to the event, but as the big night approaches the cancellations come rolling in. Friend 1 is “coming down with something” (read: Dirty Dancing is on TBS). Friend 2 is having a breakdown because nothing in her closet fits and fears she would just be a buzzkill (true). And Friend 3’s kid is projectile vomiting (again). The few left standing amp things up to compensate for the no-shows (“Let’s do Jägerbombs like it’s 2009!”). Owing to a lack of tolerance from their leave of absence from life, this results in drunken over-shares about marital sex (eew) and Moms Gone Wild antics like not immediately answering Daddy’s voice mail asking where the Cheetos are. Cut to 6 AM. Getting up with you only four hours after Mommy rolled in is a painful reminder that things have changed since those estrogen-charged nights of years past, but the flurry of photo tags, hangover war stories, and “Has anyone seen my glasses?” texts that transpire over her phone in the hours that follow happily remind her that some things always stay the same.
INGREDIENTS
½ cup spinach
1 banana
½ cup soy milk
½ cup chopped ice
3 drops vitamin B12
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine all the ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth. Pour into a tall glass. Consume immediately.
NOTE
Pairs well with a greasy breakfast prepared b
y Daddy.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Mommy and Daddy are pasty, overworked, and painfully aware that your second birthday is fast approaching, at which time you will (gasp!) no longer fly free. Thus, it’s time to book a family vacation. The temptation to go somewhere exotic is immediately quashed because Mommy needs to be assured that the local hospital isn’t out of the back of a van and that the chief of surgery isn’t also the head bartender. Not to mention the food can’t give anyone dysentery—you’ve got enough coming out of your back end when you drink safe Brita-filtered water. So they do what everyone with kids does: go to Florida. Hooray for the continental United States, where there’s a Starbucks on every corner. Mommy books a family-friendly room that comes equipped with a Pack ’n Play, which unfortunately won’t fit in the bathroom. (It’s not like you’ll remember sleeping next to a toilet. Mommy just really wanted to shut the door!) The flight is a nightmare, the car rental “forgot” to include a car seat with the Ford Escape, and owing to absolutely no time change, you’re somehow completely thrown off your nap schedule for the entire week. Also, why did they choose a destination that requires sunscreen twenty-four hours a day and is nowhere near the ocean? Oh, because of Disney World, where dreams do come true. Or nightmares. After blowing the basement repair fund on this vacation, Mommy realizes the theme park is completely age inappropriate and Mickey scares the crap out of you. Literally. All over the Magic Kingdom. The only activity Mommy and Daddy can really enjoy is shopping the outlet malls, where they end up spending another small fortune on baby sunhats and Wetzel’s Pretzels. At the end of it all, Mommy needs a vacation from her vacation. At least, unlike vacations from her single days, this time she doesn’t fear she’s coming home with an STD.
INGREDIENTS
1 ounce light rum
2 ounces orange juice
½ ounce simple syrup
Splash of lime juice
Dash of grenadine
Fresh mint leaves
INSTRUCTIONS
Combine the rum, orange juice, simple syrup, lime juice, and grenadine in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into a tall ice-filled glass. Garnish with mint and a mini-umbrella. Crank up the heat and stay home.