Mommy's Drunk

My friend Booyah says she has words. She likes to read words and she likes to write words. Sometimes she is overpowered by the need to write her words. I totally get it. Summer makes me want to write my words. Here are some words about today.

My grandfather died yesterday. He was 85 and lived a long, full life. He went peacefully. I'm not ready to use my words about it yet - I'm not really a sad word user. I'm more of a road rage and coupon shopping word user. But you will need to know that to understand the rest of my day.

It was also my sister-in-law Kristy's birthday this week. We planned to celebrate birthday / father's day today by going to dinner. My dad had $100 in gift chips (apparently this place is too hip to use gift cards) to this Mexican place not far from my house. Mexican. Margaritas for the girls & the guys drive to my house for cake after. Sounds great.

So I hear my mom tell the waitress "...on the rocks with salt." Oh Mom! You know how to do it. Only tourists and 19 year olds with fake IDs get frozen. I tell the waitress, "Ditto."

Waitress then brings out a giant margarita. Mom ordered large (go mom, btw). I take a sip and it has some zip. I space it out with sweet tea and lots of chips, but my eyes start to get buggley. You know the feeling. Buggley - they get kind of shakey and feel like they kind of bug out a little.

***I might should chose an aside that I am a total light-weight. I never drank in college. I've been "drunk" all of twice in my life. The first time was off wine at a family wedding. I was with my mom and dad and my brother caught me as I tried to fall down the escalator of the Worthington Hotel downtown. Dad had to help me in the truck and do my seat belt for me. Not exactly what they show in the teen movies of the late 1990's.***

The hubs tells me my eyes are glazed over and maybe I should drink some tea. So I do. And then go back to the bottle. It's the salt. It makes me crazy. All the sudden I go from Buggley Eyes to The Giggly Feeling. Oh no. Two drink Kortnye is coming out. One drink makes me mellow and want to sleep under the table. Two drinks makes me want to dance on top of the table.

I lean over to Brad, "Oh gosh. I'm schnockered! *giggle*" I start kind of watching the room. I can't imagine most people feel this way when they are drunk. It feels like what they portray an Ecstasy trip on TV like. Lights are flashing. Peoples voices sound all funny. I can't focus. Start sweating. In fact, I'm fanning myself (grinning like an idiot) and my brother looks over and pronounces to my mom and dad that I'm toast. The hubs takes the baby for a walk and everyone finishes their dinner. I vaguely remember talking about Spanish translations and how I can speak better Spanish when I'm drunk on tequila. Gotta remember that one for my resume.

We left and my wobbly steps got me to car -- baby in tow. The sun and air conditioner feel good and my serious buzz starts to wear off to a minor buzz. We get home and I'm comfortable enough to let the rest peter out naturally.

The best part is when I walk in and Bean declares, "Mommy's drunk!" She thinks it is hilarious and she gets a great reaction out of her crowd so she continues. Let's hope this doesn't memory doesn't flare up at Target and she sticks with the less CPS-prone "Chia Pet!" that she thinks is so hilarious.

After everyone leaves, I go to my closet to prepare for visitation and funerals for the next few days. I have one skirt and blouse that will work, but not for both events. I will have to either wear something seasonally inappropriate or dig something out from deeper in the closet.

The closet turns up one dress that makes me look like I'm wearing a black pillow case -- it is that figure flattering. And one dress from about 20 pounds ago, but it is stretchy, so I try. The fabric actually laughed at me. I looked like a cross between Morticia Adams and the before picture on a Spanx box. Then I remember my go-t0 dress. It is black and white, but subdued enough for a funeral. I LOVE this dress. It is conservative enough for winter, but cool enough for summer. It is great for working all day and then hitting an award banquet at night. It is PERFECT. It fits. And it is maternity -- so what. You absolutely can't tell and that is probably why it is so awesome.

And this dress is missing. How does one LOSE a dress. At what point did I take off my clothes in a strange location and leave them somewhere? I don't go to the gym. I don't change clothes at friends houses. It isn't in my car. It isn't in my closet or any laundry hamper. WHERE does a dress just disappear to? So I'm down to begging a friend to raid her closet or going to Target to find something cheap.

We'll see. But I'm betting my dress is somewhere near a bottle of tequila.