When Mel Gibson shows up, it’s time to go home.

20 May

I hereby swear to abstain from over consumption of alcohol for the rest of eternity. I went out last night with the single ladies and let’s just say this very married Mommy can’t party like she used to.  I’ve been out of the scene for so long that I forgot the rules. Like, always eat something before drinking. Or to drink a glass of water to match every cocktail you consume. The one about not mixing types of alcohol, forget about it. Unfortunately, I didn’t play by the rules last night and now I am paying the price.

It had been a rough day with the kids, TR had dumped yet another Horizon milk box on her head in the Coffee Bean and then had a hissy fit when I wouldn’t buy her a new one. Does this kid think I’m a moron? You just sprayed three dollars worth of milk into your eyes and and all over your clothes in a matter of seconds and you want me to stage a repeat?  JH Houdini’ed from his stroller and was two seconds from heading into traffic on Beverly Drive before I even noticed he had escaped. I thought tourists were going to take my picture so they could show people back home just how terrible the parents in Beverly Hills are.

I just wanted to be out somewhere where strollers and sippys were unwelcome. I needed to be out of this house, away from these kids and wearing a shirt that said Dry Clean Only. I love my kids, I live for my kids, I obsess over my kids and about once I need to forget that I have them. The night started out innocently enough, a glass of wine at a friend’s house and some girl talk, ahhh this is nice. Then we headed over to BOA on Sunset, the fact that it’s on Sunset Blvd should have been my first clue to not go there. There should be a uterus check before you enter The Sunset Strip, and if you’ve had kids you should not be allowed up there past 10pm. Nothing good happens on Sunset after 10pm, ever, except  maybe some weddings at The Beverly Hills Hotel. I settled into my swanky love seat by the fire pit and the drinks just kept coming. To put all this in perspective, my husband and I are pretty much teetotalers. We will maybe have a cocktail on date night once a month but that’s about it. So you can imagine where my alcohol tolerance lies compared to my wild and free friend. I can say at this point in the night I had lost track of my drink total and I forgot to order myself Dinner, yes I swear I have a College Degree. The night concluded with an odd encounter with Mel Gibson where I’m pretty sure I invited him for a tour of The Museum of Tolerance, but that’s a different story.  At 2am I found myself on the bathroom floor thanking GOD that the floor was tile and not carpet because wow it felt good. I learned my lesson, and I will be staying in for awhile.

Why has this upstanding moral Mother of 3 shared her story of drunken stupidity with you? As a teaching guide:

1. Always eat before you drink.

2. My Dad was right when he said that Midnight is a good curfew for everyone.

3. Just because I had a rough day with the kids doesn’t mean I need to go all Tara Reid and everything.

4. Sky High Heels feel like hush puppies when you’ve had a few too many.

5. just because you can’t taste the vodka doesn’t mean it’s not in there.

6. Morning sickness and a hangover feel almost identical, except with morning sickness you get a human when it’s over.

7. Meditation and Yoga is the new Red Bull and Vodka.

xoxo

Thoughts? Comments? Should I have told you this? Are you judging me?

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