A long time ago in a land far away Chantel had children that were little. So little that they didn’t notice that when they were away for the weekend with their father or at their grandparent’s for spring break that I their devoted mother didn’t spend her time knitting or baking. They were always curious about my going’s on and always inquired like good little children.

“Mommy I missed you. What did you do this weekend.”

Mommy scratches her weary hungover head and searches deep inside her heart for an appropriate answer. An answer that doesn’t include any of the following. Drank large quantities of vodka, played clothing optional billiards with hot men and danced on tables.

“I spent my weekend curled up with a book, making homemade gravy and missing you.”

Now they are older. Now they would notice if I went out, danced on tables, brought strange men home and thus spent my day on the couch trying to hold down the eggs that were supposed to cure my hangover. So I don’t do it anymore. I have to set some sort of a good example for them. However, now the conversation starts before they leave.

“Mom, I’m making sure you go to the grocery store before I go. You cannot live on freezer burrito’s and Domino’s pizza for an entire week. You really don’t take very good care of yourself when we’re not home.”

“I’ll try my hardest”