Breathe...

Stepped away from the kitchen while my boys eat dinner to breathe! When I decided to get sober I wasn't worried about nights out with friends, what to do when invited to happy hour, or what to do with my weekends. I was beyond scared of those few hours between getting home and getting my boys to bed - and really the hours after when I would be up by myself. That's when my little party began daily...and it usually started the moment I got home and started making lunches for the next day, worked its way into dinner prep, cleaning, bath time, sometimes even walks around the neighborhood with the boys, bedtime stories and kisses, and always ended with me on the couch watching something on tv (finally some ME time! -never remembering what I even watched by the way) until I decided to head to bed or sometimes even fell asleep there. My husband works late and never knew my evening reality. I remember having a HH at my house after work one day with co-workers and their kids. I had my youngest in the Baby Bjorn, flitting about the kitchen doing my usual nightly duties all while drinking and socializing. I clearly remember saying, "Wow, everything I have to do seems so easy and manageable with a buzz!" That was the start of my hard and regular drinking.

In the beginning of sobriety I don't think I stayed up later than 8:00, almost always going to bed when my youngest did. I hated driving down our street after work because I knew the longest night of my life was about to begin again, just like the night before. It's SO much better now, I can even cook a meal and handle being in the kitchen for a bit. I try to be present for my boys in the evenings and put things aside that can wait. But I still feel that little voice inside, sometimes catching me by surprise telling me, "all this would be so much easier with a big glass of wine." When the "mommy, mommy, mommy!" and the 7th grade math homework (and 7th grade attitude) all becomes overwhelming, that voice screams. It's screaming tonight but I'm not listening.