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Martini, Please

Reasons Mommy Drinks: Cocktails for Coping With Parenthood

A new book suggests the perfect cocktail for a host of parenting situations, from dealing with explosive poo to endless recitations of 'Goodnight Moon.’

EXPLOSIVE POO

Mommy used to get shit done. Now she gets shit on. How does such a tiny person consistently produce so much volume? It gets in every little crevice down there. It goes up your back. It goes down your legs. It goes sideways? First it started out as sticky black tar. Then the mustard stuff. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t so bad. Mommy didn’t realize how good she had it when you were exclusively fed breast milk. Now that you’re eating solids, this shit is getting real, fast. The inaccurately named Diaper Genie isn’t very magical at all because the smell permeates the whole house. Unless, at the drop point, someone (read: Daddy) quickly runs the hot mess to the green bin outside. There’s no waiting for Daddy to get home though, as The Situation must be dealt with immediately lest you get a diaper rash. But oh, the horror that unfolds with the diaper. No one accurately prepared Mommy for this, and there are some triple-poo days when she actually throws up in her mouth a little. Of course, Mommy tries to remain calm, even when you drop a deuce in the bath, or in the Jolly Jumper, or on the wall, or OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT IN MOMMY’S HAIR? Shit.

 

A Mudslide

I N G R E D I E N T S
Chocolate syrup
½ ounce vodka
½ ounce coffee liqueur
½ ounce Irish cream
Splash of milk


I N S T R U C T I O N S
Drizzle chocolate syrup around the inside rim of a
glass, and then fill the glass with ice. Pour in the
vodka, coffee liqueur, Irish cream, and milk and stir.

Reasons Mommy Drinks
Cocktails from left: Mudslide, Career Suicide and Board Book Empire. (Kevin Sweeting/Crown Publishing Group)

***

 

WORKING FROM HOME

Sometimes the basement floods or the nanny gets deported and suddenly Mommy is forced to work from home. This usually coincides with the worst possible day ever to be out of the office. You’re happily playing on the floor, so she orchestrates a conference call.

MOMMY: Thanks, everyone, for dialing in. As you can see on slide four—
YOU: DUCKA DUCKA DUCKAAAAAAAAAA!
CLIENT: Is there a fire alarm on your end?
ACCOUNT GUY: I think I hear a cat dying.
Mommy quickly turns on Sesame Street’s YouTube channel, even though it might give you epilepsy, and goes off the cuff because she can’t see her PowerPoint.

MOMMY: As you’ll see on slide six—
CLIENT: What happened to slide four?

You spill organic goat milk all over Mommy’s laptop. Sad Mac face appears.
MACBOOK AIR: BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!
YOU: BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!
ACCOUNT GUY: Seriously, is that cat okay?

Mommy tries to hit Mute but instead hangs up. Now she can’t find the passcode because you ate the piece of paper it was written on. When she finally dials back in, she has no idea what anyone is talking about. It’s probably about her.

CLIENT: ... clear out the dead weight, we’ll be in a great place. What do you think on your end?
MOMMY: Well ... (fuuuuck!) ... let’s circle back COB with some below-the-line ideas to maximize share of dollar (that sounds like Mommy has this under control, right?).

Total silence.
YOU: PPPFFFTTTTTTTWRRRAAAAPPPFFFTTTTTT!
Mercifully, someone has a hard stop so the call ends. Your diaper has leaked all over the sofa. Mommy lies down on it anyway. Later you pick up her company-owned BlackBerry and toss it in the toilet, which is a good metaphor for where Mommy’s career is headed.

 

Career Suicide

I N G R E D I E N T S
1 ounce Malibu rum
1 ounce tequila
3 ounces lemon-lime soda
Splash of orange juice
Splash of grenadine
I N S T R U C T I O N S
Combine all ingredients in an ice-filled glass and stir.
Enjoy while surfing Monster.com.

Reasons Mommy Drinks

***

 

BOARD BOOKS

At least the name is accurate. After reading Big Red Barn for the 1,098th time, Mommy is officially bored. She used to pore over Jonathan Franzen novels and biographies about Steve Jobs, but now she finds herself overly invested in the search-and-rescue mission unfolding in Where’s Spot? This is not helping her reverse the rapid descent into permanent Mommy Brain. Some board books don’t even have plots. Or words! They’re just pictures of babies next to pictures of baby animals. How did this author get a book deal? Did she go into Random House and say, “I’ll shoot you straight. I spent my advance on a cocaine-fueled gambling binge, but check out these royalty-free stock shots I found on Google Images”? To spice things up, Mommy has started going off script and hoping you don’t notice. In last night’s rendition of Goodnight Moon, the Quiet Old Lady was having a torrid affair with the Cow, and the two Little Kittens were about to expose the scandal on E! Bowl Full of Mush Network. Speaking of Goodnight Moon, the page that says “goodnight nobody”? That’s messed up. Truthfully, Mommy knows that time passes all too quickly and soon you’ll grow out of her reading to you. Then she’ll miss Sandra Boynton’s complexities of the postmodern antihero in The Snuggle Puppy. One day you’ll read Charlotte’s Web all on your own. SPOILER ALERT: The central character dies. This is why you should stick to math.

 

Board Book Empire

I N G R E D I E N T S
1 ounce Canadian Club whisky
1 ounce peach schnapps
3 ounces cola
Squeeze of lime
I N S T R U C T I O N S
Fill a glass with ice. Pour in all the ingredients
and stir. Serve on a board book, which makes a
great coaster.

 

©2013 by Fiona + Lyranda Inc. Reprinted by permission of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company.

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