Reasons Mommy Drinks Read Free

peanut butter jar, Mommy finds herself counting down the minutes until the next meeting.

    INGREDIENTS
    Equal parts any boxed wine and Perrier
    INSTRUCTIONS
    Fill a glass with ice. Pour in the wine and Perrier, and stir.
    HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

Mommy used to party irresponsibly. She used to wear pleather and dance on the bar to “Pony” by Ginuwine, and once while overserved $2 Amaretto sours she ate a whole apple pie off some random dude’s table. Mommy would wake up in a dry-mouthed haze at noon and piece together the evening through Facebook photos and a Sent folder of drunken texts to ex-boyfriends. Then she’d meet her friends for brunch at 2 PM to discuss who made out with which bouncer. Now if Mommy has more than a glass of wine she pays for it at 2 AM , 4 AM , and 6 AM , when you wake up screaming and she has to feed you from the stash of breast milk in the freezer. She used to keep nothing but vodka and an eye mask in there. Times have changed.

    INSTRUCTIONS
    1 ounce, served neat. If you’re going to have only one drink, make it count.
    HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

On the occasion of Mommy’s birthday, Daddy tries to melt away three months of emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion with the (previously) fail-safe gift of a day at the spa. Unfortunately, Mommy’s first postnatal spa visit doesn’t quite pan out as planned. First, the massage therapist has the misguided notion that Mommy wants to spend her first child-free hour in months answering a continuous stream of questions about labor when all she really wants to do is fantasize about Matt Damon. Mommy’s rejuvenation facial is scored by pan flutes, wind chimes, and a lecture about the toll that her lack of sleep is taking on the skin around her eyes, delivered by an aesthetician who looks twelve. Mommy hasn’t even cracked
Us Weekly
in the postservice tranquility room when Daddy calls with the news that you’ve been wailing incessantly for the past forty-five minutes, refusing to take the bottle. Mommy heads immediately to the checkout desk, where she’s pressured in her vulnerable postpartum state into dropping $75 on an antigravity firming lift cream from France that she’ll find unopened and expired in her bathroom drawer in 2020. As she races uptown at lightning speed, Mommy’s nipples leak all over the steering wheel. Serenity now!

    INGREDIENTS
    ½ ounce green tea liqueur
    ½ ounce melon liqueur
    3 ounces mango juice
    2 ounces cream
    Fresh mint leaves
    Freshly ground nutmeg
    INSTRUCTIONS
    Combine the green tea liqueur, melon liqueur, mango juice, and cream in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into a Champagne flute. Garnish with mint and nutmeg, and hold your breath for eighteen years.
    HOW BADLY YOU NEED THIS DRINK

Even more hotly debated than health-care reform is which of the 563 models of baby-wearing devices to buy. Despite witnessing multiple demos by store clerks on some petrifying dummy babies, Mommy never actually mastered any of the three baby carriers she purchased during a hormone-induced shopping spree in her last trimester. There was the structured baby carrier from Europe with twelve buckles, six adjustment straps, and a recall notice. There was the two-foot-wide, sixteen-foot-long piece of organic cotton fabric that all the websites said was “so easy to use!” that Mommy almost strangled herself with. And finally there was the ergonomically designed backpack that was more difficult to assemble than an IKEA EXPEDIT shelving unit. Mommy was forced to resort to the “idiot-proof” online instructional videos after your birth, but they were far too complex for her sleep-deprived brain. After three months of carrying you in her arms every waking minute of the day, Mommy finally struck gold with a borrowed sling that looks like a cross between Joseph’s Technicolor Dreamcoat and the wallpaper in her great aunt’s bathroom. Mommy is now a prime candidate for
What Not to Wear: Maternal Edition
, but at