Ok, so it’s not like I just realized I’ve aged. The mocking I got from my friends about my pants drooping blog was enough to hint I’m becoming an old fuddy dud. However, last night my descent into early middle age was solidified. It seems I can no longer hold my liquor.
Not that I was ever some fortress of drinking fortitude, but at least during my younger days the spins only set in after I’d taken 10 or 11 shots of some crappy cheap liquor (or usually a combination of them, including peppermint schnapps, which in case you didn’t know, tastes like Scope) that were sitting around the party I happened to be at. Even in my later 20’s I could sort of match my dear friend Porchdog by slamming down half a dozen shots of his special NY concoction while drinking a couple glasses full of electric lemonade.*
Two summers ago, I almost held my own with my in-laws who are not alcholics, but are confirmed drinking experts. For 10 days in Ireland, I got offered liquor and they were thrilled I didn’t turn them down. In fact, I didn’t once get called a teetotaler. Plus I even took a sip out of my free pint of Guiness and for me, that was monumental.
Last night, I proved those days of drinking with wild abandon are gone. I’d had a rather rough, hectic weekend. It started when I packed my son in the car and headed to my father’s at 9 am on Friday morning. Two hours later we arrived at his fire station where my son was enthralled by the flashing lights and ability to run through the station with wild abandon. That same day we swam in the pool, played with the giant choo-choo that runs through his backyard (G scale), ran amok in the backyard, chased after a cat and ate pizza. He only had a 40 minute nap in the car, so he crashed hard. Only to wake up at some point in the wee hours of the morning and stay awake for about two hours. Since we were sharing a room, I got to stay awake with him. Every timeI moved in the bed, he let out a cry from his pack n’ play. It was fairly miserable.
Saturday morning he slept in until 8:30, but that meant we were running late to pick my mother up at my grandmother’s. My mother was in town for her annual visit, which used to be a once every decade in a half visit, but has suddenly become a yearly thing.** She wasn’t alone either. She spent the week with my grandmother as well as my two nephews who are 1 1/2 and almost 4. I had to go pick them up in order to drive them all down to the airport.
I won’t even go into the details of that trip. It’s a whole other blog. I’ll just say I had three car seats in my back seat, a mother who I have a strained relationship with in the front and a son who decided not to fall asleep until we were 10 minutes from my house. Oh, and since he couldn’t sleep, but was really overdue for a nap, he cried a lot of the way home.
A drink was in order. And Saturday night I confined it to one little drink. I felt fine.
On Sunday though, my husband invited everyone from his band over to our house. Their keyboardist/bassist is moving to Pennsylvania, and he wanted to have everyone over for a final jam session/cook-out. I was fine with this, although I’d only met the lead singer and his wife before. I wasn’t even planning to drink, but the lead singer’s wife brought a bottle of wine and since I didn’t want her to drink alone, I let her pour me a glass. I’m not a wine drinker by nature. I actually dislike the taste of it, especially warm red wine, but it’s what she had so I drank.
The guys finished up, the baby went to bed, the food was cooking and the alcohol started flowing. Since I’d bought a rather large container of Absolute pre-made mojito mix and had only had one glass out of it, I figured I’d offer the slushy concoction up to the other party goers. Once again the lead singer’s wife was my partner in crime, so I poured us glasses. For a pre-made mix, it is surprisingly strong. The bottle says 15%, so maybe it was more the two plastic tumblers of it I drank. Either way, I was having a good time.
I managed not to make an idiot of myself while we had guests, but even before they all left, I noticed the patio was spinning when I moved my head two quickly to one side. I knew it was not a good sign, but I went ahead and finished my drink. By the time I was laying on the couch watching TV with my husband, things were spinning no matter what I did. I was on a merry-go-round, and not the nice one with the pretty horses at Six Flags. I was on the hideous one with the apocolyptic horse at the House on the Rock.
My husband forced a glass of water on me before I went to bed. At the time I was a bit annoyed, but in hindsight I guess it was good. I could have felt much worse this morning.
As it was, my head ached. My stomach churned and when I tried to change my son’s diaper (which was only wet), I went running for the bathroom. I didn’t hurl, but I really kind of wanted to. The glass of water I drank made my mouth and throat feel better, but made my stomach flip flop again. Around 10:30 I got half a banana down and managed to keep it there. For lunch I was able to eat some veggie soup, but the smell of my son’s polenta made me gag.
We spent the morning on the couch watching Wonder Pets, the Backyardigans and Wonder Pets again. As a rule I let my son watch 15-30 minutes of TV a day. Today we watched close to two hours.
Around three o’clock I started to feel better. Fourteen and a half hours is a long time to recover from one glass of red wine and two glasses of 15% mojito mix. Getting older really sucks.
*I actually have no illusions that I matched him during this very long night of drinking and I fully admit that at one point he was holding me up and forcing me to focus on things while I tried not to fall off of his balcony. However, aside from throwing up a smidge the next morning, I was relatively fine.
**My grandmother who she does not at all get along with is getting pretty darn old–88–and I think my mother is suddenly worried about her possible inheritance.