Tuesday, June 22, 2010
My Drug-Addicted Grandma (No, Really, It's Funny)
Right now the girls are pretending to be extremely loud cats. You know the sound a cat makes when you accidentally step on its tail? That is the sound all three of them are making. Little Dude has been banging two Legos together for the last 20 minutes. I don't want to stop him, because prior to the Lego-banging, he had just finished a major freak-out because a small chunk of popsicle fell on his chair.
What ever happened to the good old days, when housewives could be sent away for a week due to "nerves," and all the cool moms knocked back "mother's little helpers" with gin and tonics at garden club luncheons? Sure, we see some celebrity moms on Entertainment Tonight who seem to be on something stronger than TrimSpa, but pill-popping for moms has definitely lost its cachet.
Also like many Hollywood stars and middle-class housewives, my grandmother became addicted to Miltown, and later to alcohol. When I first found out about that, I was shocked. That was before I had kids.
Now I totally get it.
And I'm ready to call up my mommy friends and suggest we totally start a fake garden club so that we can have luncheons and get whacked out on Miltown. Or at least margaritas. Or maybe just some chocolate and a good cry. Who's in?