Reasons Mommy Drinks (13 page)
Read Reasons Mommy Drinks Online
Authors: Lyranda Martin-Evans
Before you were born, Sparky was the center of Mommy and Daddy’s universe. Sparky was the Test Baby and was spoiled as such with free-range bison meat, monogrammed dishes, and endless affection. Sparky had a Facebook page with funny status updates like “Chasing tail tonight, look out ladies” and “It’s Thursday? Feels like Friday.” Now poor Sparky is
pet-sona non grata
. This has led to some bad behavior, including chewing all your baby toys and Mommy’s entire collection of Aldo shoes. Never mind the fact that Sparky completely failed as the Test Baby. It turns out Mommy and Daddy can’t just leave you for a night by turning on the National Geographic channel and putting out a bowl of kibble. Speaking of kibble, yesterday Mommy caught you eating some off the kitchen floor. You won’t eat homemade, wholesome food, but you will eat dehydrated cow testicles or whatever else is in pet chow. Not only is the entire IKEA EKTORP sofa either clawed or covered in spit-up, but it seems both you and Sparky are in a literal pissing contest to mark your territory. These days, Mommy’s always cleaning up someone else’s pee: yours, Sparky’s,
and Daddy’s
. Maybe when you grow up, you’ll have better aim.
INGREDIENTS
Lemon juice
Salt
1 ounce vodka
3 ounces grapefruit juice
INSTRUCTIONS
Rim a glass with lemon juice and then salt. Fill the glass with ice. Pour in the vodka and grapefruit juice, and stir. Serve on a short leash.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Sometimes, when she’s covered in baby barf, tortured by sleep deprivation, and as hormonal as
Chastity
Chaz Bono, Mommy fantasizes about What Could Have Been. This involves mentally scrolling through (and, real talk, Facebook creeping) her roster of exes. Here’s what plays out during her
It’s a Wonderful Life
flashback of relationships past:
The Big Man with a Small Penis: Would have made her a kept woman, complete with a mansion, four nannies plus a night nurse, and a barely legal mistress.
The Nice Guy with No Backbone: Would have done whatever she wanted all the time (including every diaper change and late-night feeding!) except go away and/or stop crying.
Questionably Gay Metrosexual Man: Would have done all the cooking, shopping, and cleaning of their adopted child, and Mommy would have become best friends with the massage feature on her showerhead.
The Hot Guy with No Career: Would have motivated Mommy to keep up her Brazilian waxes and lose the baby weight in sexercise while she went broke funding his T-shirt–printing business.
Ultimately, though, when you wrap your pudgy arms around her neck and bare your big toothy grin, Mommy is incredibly grateful for Daddy. They made you together. Then she reminds herself that exes are called exes for a reason.
INGREDIENTS
1 ounce pear nectar
1 ounce cranberry juice
Prosecco
INSTRUCTIONS
Chill a Champagne flute. Pour in the pear nectar and cranberry juice, and top with Prosecco. Spill a little on the ground in memory, and close the door (and your laptop, you stalker!) on the past.
HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK
Like Mommy’s mother-in-law, Mother Nature can be irritating. However, Mommy is going stir-crazy and needs to get you out of the house before you Jackson Pollock another wall. The Weather Channel is as random as her iTunes shuffle, so here’s what could play out:
Baby, it’s cold outside
. Mommy has to wrestle you into multiple layers, including an embarrassing reindeer sweater and a bunting bag worthy of a trek to base camp. You won’t wear mittens and you continually throw off your hat. An old lady gives Mommy the stink eye and judges her parenting in another language.
Blame it on the rain
. This means Mommy can’t walk you anywhere unless she MacGyvers a tent over the stroller. She can’t carry an umbrella while pushing your SUV, so Mommy gets soaked. Your hat falls into your eyes, rendering you temporarily blind, but Mommy can’t adjust it because of the Fortress of Waterproof Solitude surrounding you.
Feelin’ hot, hot, hot
. You’re too little to wear sunscreen, so you have to wear a UV-blocking Hazmat suit, leaving you sweaty and pissed off. You refuse to wear your junior Ray-Bans and keep ripping off your ironic straw fedora. The hat goes MIA. Even though you and Mommy were almost home, she has to retrace her steps to find it. She sees your hat in the middle of the road. The hat gets run over by a Range Rover. You laugh and laugh. Mommy should be frustrated that yet another $22 has been flushed down the proverbial Diaper Genie, but instead she silently applauds your sociopolitical stance on hipsters and makes a mental note that your style is more Hugo Boss than Unemployed Musician.
INGREDIENTS
1 ounce dark rum
2 ounces lemon juice
2 ounces passion fruit syrup