July 11, 2010
I’m not a party girl.
I don’t like to get drunk.
I don’t like that sick feeling the next morning. Plus there’s always the inevitable drunk poo, and possible vomiting, and honestly, that’s just too many runny bodily fluids for me.
I do, however enjoy the occasional drink.
But because, I’m nursing Hudson, I have to be mindful of how much I drink.
I don’t want a drunk baby on my hands.
Could you imagine?
Wait–on second thought, let’s not imagine.
So I bought these alcohol strip thingies to test my milk before I give it to the Huds.
He appreciates that.
The other night I went out with a few friends, and had two glasses of wine. They were spread out over 3.5 hours, and I even drove home, but by the time I got home I tested my milk, and wouldn’t you know?
It said I was piss drunk.
I tried to reason with the strip.
“Listen here,” I commanded. “I’m not drunk. I had 2 glasses of wine and a heap of pasta. I’m totally sober. If I were drunk could I do this?”
I started to pat my head and rub my belly simultaneously.
“Or what about this?”
I touched my nose with my index finger while closing my eyes and tilting my head back.
“Hell–ooo? Check this out.”
I moon walked across the kitchen floor. I even threw in a lewd crotch grab, to really drive the point home.
Just then my husband walked in, “Who are you talking to? And what the hell are you doing? You’re totally sauced right now, aren’t’ you?I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive home!”
“No, no. Pat, don’t be silly. I’m talking to the milk strip, see? I’m showing it that I’m sober. It thinks I should dump this milk.”
“Ludacris. Hey let me see that thing.”
Pat grabbed the strip from me.
“Oh Beckey, this thing darker than the chart! You’re totally drunk right now. You should proably lay down. Here, take some Advil. I’m going to dump this milk. It’s tainted with your irresponsibility.”
“Nooo!!! Don’t dump it. That’s liquid gold. Maybe we can make cheese out of it. Or if we dump it into the garden I bet a beautiful tree will grow. Or maybe you can drink it!”
“Seriously Beckey? A tree? You are totally drunk.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’m going to bed.”