Mommy’s Little Helper …. try not to shit yourself ….

wine

A show aired on a talk show hosted by Katie Courie – I caught it on youtube.

I do not know Katie Courie, after the show I do not think she is someone I would want to watch.

The focus of the show I saw, was Mommies who admit to needing a swig of wine to get through the day – she had Marile Borden who is a mom of two who organized a Facebook page called, Moms Who need Wine! on.

What started as a discussion degenerated into a judgement exercise.

These are not moms who are having a glass at 7am to get through the school run.  Rather Moms who are having drinks at a play date (crikey holy, I would go to more play dates if there was wine on offer – it would also help me mask out the drone of the mom who was boasting about how fantastic Junior was or how Miss had managed to win yet another Cello solo …. I cannot bear it!!) or are having wine whilst they make dinner.

The horror!!  The shame!!

I found this entire thing a bit vilifying.

Why should we stand around and make excuses or “oh but I don’t when…” if we decide to drink a glass (or three) of wine at home – I believe last time I checked we were adults, and as adults we do not need the Nanny Police to decide for us.

I am not suggesting hopping in the car and doing an advanced driving course when the kids are tucked up in bed while you put wine in a sippie cup.  But let’s just get a quick reality check.

I drink 2 or 3 glasses of wine in the evening – when I want to.   I might drink 1, I might drink none.

Sometimes I even go wild and throw a white bread sandwich smeared in Nutella — calm yourself before you call the village and arrange torches and a funky chant!

I do not have to, I choose to drink wine.

I like wine.  I love wine — I am desperately looking for a wine sponsor for this blog or even one post, but instead I get approached by organic nappy suppliers.

I like the wine that I buy for myself and I pack into my fridge as a treat for myself.  It is not because I am a mom, it really has nothing to do with it (well most days)

I work hard, I pay for it (the wine), and even if I didn’t — I AM AN ADULT I GET TO CHOOSE WHAT I DRINK without having to run it past the holier than thou mommy police and Katie fucking Courie.

I get the wine for surviving the FUCKING DAY!!  I celebrate the FANTASTIC FUCKING day by having a large glass of wine if I want to.  Why should I stand here babbling incoherently and make excuses for drinking wine and having a uterus?

I do not have to give a reason why I want to enjoy a glass of wine.  And I definitely do not need to explain it to a mom whose idea of a good time is doing arts and crafts all bleeding day.

When was the last time we had a discussion about dads sitting on the couch drinking beer?  Er never!

Now why is that?

Because no one judges a dad smashing a can (or six pack) into his beak every day.  But god help you if you have a uterus, some mammary glands and deem to think you are an adult and can drink a glass or two of wine if you choose to.

Why is it that if you have a child suddenly you get judged by other moms?

Dads have opted to not even weigh in on this, and bless them — bless them!!  Why do they need to get involved in this, when there are moms squabbling and judging up a shit storm all by themselves.

Men must be thinking “thank fuck, I will just sit here quietly on the couch, not draw any attention to me as I drink my beer and change the channel with the remote ….”

Holy fuck — who gives a shit what judgmental women who are sitting on their prissy Biggie Best furniture whilst they hand weave their darlings next sweater out of mohair, that that they personally selected and plucked from a strawberry farm on organic Wednesday, and post Facebook updates of their off spring every 2.5 minutes?

I am so sick and tired of moms who stand around and tell everyone how holier than fuck they are.

I am so exhausted by women who band together so that as a group they can say things like “but … I never drink because I might have to rush my child to hospital” — well in that case I hope you are never naked  in the throes of an orgasm (or an origami), because maybe that might be an appropriated time for your child to sustain an injury and you need to rush them to hospital.

Because I have children, must I stop being an adult and remain a carer …. until ….. they are 21?  Must my entire life come to a stand still because I am a parent?

If you think so, then one of us is reading the wrong parenting manual.

I am a truly exhausted by the clutch of holier than thou moms that feel they need to constantly preach to us slightly-less-than-holy moms, who actually do enjoy a glass of wine (or a box), and actually – god forbid — enjoy time WITHOUT our kids, and — brace yourself — feed our kids hot dogs because kids love hot dog.   I actually do not care if there is a bit of donkey in there.

If your kid cannot survive a bit of donkey, then your kid maybe needs to be weaned out by natural selection.

Okay I have vented, now I need to pour myself another Chenin Blanc.

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