My seven year old came home today and told me she had a boyfriend.
I need a drink.
I have been doing this parenting gig for nearly eight years now, and the married thing for fifteen years. At this point I have a vague memory of when I used to be fun and talk about things that did not directly pertain to the hilarious thing the baby did today. But most of those stories start, “Once upon a time, mommy had a life…”
As the child is headed firmly out the front door and into second grade it seems like a good time to rediscover my mojo, and what is more adult than wine and chocolate pairings. The fact that I am also on a countdown to divorce means these kinds of adulting skills are going to need some brushing up along with shirts that don’t have stains, and a list of what the cool kids are doing these days after 8pm.
So there I was, alone for the evening. I had an agenda of Netflix binge watching to attend to and it occurred to me I should celebrate the occasion of my daughter’s first boyfriend with a glass of wine (or four), except I had no wine. I couldn’t actually remember the last time I had a glass of wine. This needed to be fixed. Luckily, I am an adult with a set of car keys and no bedtime so I headed out to remedy the situation.
I stood in the wine aisle at the grocery store staring at labels and wondering which of the choices were going to transform me into a rockstar parent who could handle such things as seven year olds with boyfriends, when I got the brilliant idea to drink something that was both economical and practical.
As a child I can remember my mother burying all of her hopes and dreams in a box of vino bliss and I decided that I should begin my journey at the base of my family tree and go with the classic box I had known from the kitchen counter of my childhood but never had tasted.
I pulled the box off the shelf with a bit more glee than was likely necessary, but if I am going to spend $12 on a few gallons of wine, a bit of joy is in order. Feeling like a true connoisseur, I took my Franzia Chillable Red to the checkout.
“Why yes, I am going to Netflix and chill… why do you ask?” Apparently I was the only one in line who thought my dad jokes were funny.
I got my prize home and grabbed my phone to discuss my brilliance by text with a friend. The conversation went something like this:
“OMG!! It’s totally mommy juice! It is exactly alcoholic grape juice…”
“It really is.”
“You bought box wine, what did you expect?”
“I put it over crushed ice and it got better.”
“Stay classy San Diego.”
“I know what this is… this is teenage sex at a shitty house party. It seems all grown up and awesome, and then you have no idea what you are doing, and you end up with iced grape juice that kinda gets you drunk and is massively anticlimactic.”
“LOL I think you can get a job reviewing wines!”
“…Second glass. Now I am kinda tipsy, and damn that was bad wine, but kinda good grape juice over ice. Maybe next time I turn it into sangria. I paired it with a handful of leftover Halloween chocolates. Go me!”
“You seriously need to up your game.”
There are moments in life when it becomes crystal clear that it is time to grow beyond your parents’ choices. As my friend so kindly pointed out, my current taste in wine is heading for life support and it is time to dust it off and give it a serious once over.
Stay tuned for the next installment of Lisa gets a life. Also know as Sex, Wine and Chocolate… the adventure begins.