Real Drinking Mom Son

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Real Drinking Mom Son
My mother gets drunk pretty much every night and I don't know what to do
‘I won’t call past 9pm because I know she will be slurring.’ Photograph: Alamy
Fri 11 Mar 2016 11.43 GMT Last modified on Sat 25 Nov 2017 05.38 GMT
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I can see the physical and mental impact on her and can’t condone it any longer, but I think she might react badly if I try to talk to her
I t has become clear that my mother drinks far too much and does not have it under control. She seems to get drunk pretty much every night (drinking 15 units-plus) and I regularly see her start earlier, drink faster and finish later than anybody else, as well as “needing” a drink by mid-to-late afternoon most days. There are times when I won’t call past 9pm because I know she will be slurring, and maintaining a conversation is hard. The idea that if I had kids, I might not want to leave them with her, is particularly hard.
However, I am not sure she recognises this as a problem. We were always a family where drinking was just something we did. I feel I can see the impact of it on her physical health, mental sharpness and mood, and can’t sit by and condone it any longer. She doesn’t have any other close family left in the country, so it falls to me to talk to her, but I think she might react badly to being told what to do, or just deny things. What can I do? Should I be so frustrated that this has been left to me to deal with?
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Anne Bardsley May 26, 2015 30299 views
How I Got Drunk With My Son’s Friend was last modified: May 25th, 2015 by Anne Bardsley

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Or…. Me, Matt, the Cat and the Watermelon
One hot summer afternoon I came home to find my son’s friend, Matt, sitting on our front porch. I invited him in so he didn’t melt in the heat. Justin would be home shortly. I offered him a glass of iced tea. Like a good hostess, I added fresh lemon and a sprig of something green to impress him.
Mrs. B, he asked, “Do you mind if I have a piece of that watermelon in the fridge?”
“Sure, Matt. I’ll cut you a piece. I think there must have been a bad spot because someone cut a piece off the top.” I got the knife and cut Matt a big slice. It looked so refreshing. He suggested I have one too. In fact, he cut it for me. I was going to call his mom and tell her what a nice young man she’d raised.
We sat and slurped down this delicious watermelon. We both agreed it was the sweetest we’ve EVER had. Matt suggested we have another piece while he waited for Justin. I agreed. I was starting to chill from a hectic day and this watermelon was just what I needed to unwind. Matt offered to get up and cut it for me. What a nice kid! I was feeling sentimental that college was starting in a few months and I wouldn’t see him and the other kids for a while.
I told Matt he would be a great waiter for a summer job. “Thanks, Mrs. B and you don’t have to leave me a tip.” he chuckled.
Our cat, appropriately named Kitty, started to scratch at my legs for a treat. I gave her a small piece of the melon. She rolled over and played with it like catnip. 
By now, Matt and I were discussing life. “How’s your girlfriend?”
“Did you hear what happened to Jill? She cheated on Marty.”
“Oh No! That tramp!” I yelled. I wasn’t sure where that came from because I actually like Jill.
“I’m not sure she’s a tramp, Mrs. B,” Matt defended her. “Oh! You are so naïve, Matt!”
“Matt, sometimes pretty girls can be tramps. It’s deceiving because you expect tramps to have a cigarette hanging out of their mouth and their hair all teased up.”
I told Matt he was very naïve again. I think I said it three more times. I liked the way it rolled off my tongue.
“Matt, let’s have one more piece of melon before Justin gets home. Give Kitty that little piece on your plate. She loves this stuff!”
Half an hour later, Justin arrived home. Matt, the cat and I had eaten half of the watermelon.
“Hey Justin, want some watermelon before your mom eats it all?” Matt asked
“Hey! I yelled. Lighten up! It’s a fruit! It’s healthy! It’s a bleeping fruit! (hiccup).”
Justin gave Matt a dirty look and said, “You know what’s in the melon right?”
I said, “Of course, seeds…we’re spitting them out.” I spit one his way.
I suggested Justin help us finish off this incredibly refreshing and delicious melon quickly because I was feeling very sleepy. Kitty was too. She fell asleep sitting up at my feet.
When my daughters arrived home they were angry that the watermelon was almost gone. Since when did my kids like fruit so much? “Who ate the watermelon?” they demanded.
I grinned and announced that “Me, Matt and the cat did.” I grinned at them and hiccuped. “It was delishioushhh. Have shome…it’s verrrrry nutrishish for you. Watch for the sheeds. Justin says they’re in there.”
“Ooops here comes one now!” I spit one in their direction and laughed uncontrollably. I was having so much fun chilling with my kids, Matt and the cat.
My husband, Scott, arrived home to find me and the cat sound asleep on the couch.
“Have you been drinking?” he asked. He stared at me as I tried to upright myself.
“No! I had watermelon with Matt and the cat. Don’t be shilly!”
Justin and Matt arrived to confess that the watermelon was the cause of my exhaustion. Matt took the blame. That’s when I learned that the hole in the watermelon was not a bad spot. It was a hole to pour vodka into in my refreshing, delicious watermelon. Kitty hiccupped.
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Anne Bardsley of St Pete Florida, is the author of "How I Earned MY Wrinkles...Musings on Marriage, Motherhood, and Menopause", a collection of humorous and sentimental stories about marriage, motherhood and menopause. It is available on Amazon . com . When people ask her age, sometimes she tells them her bra size. “36C was a wonderful age.”
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I’m not ready for him to graduate high school this June.
Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!
Feb 22, 2017, 08:30 AM EST | Updated Feb 22, 2017
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Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!
“Mom, this was the first time we ever saw a movie alone, just the two of us.”
I was watching my 18-year-old son, coffee cup in his hand, looking up at me between bites of his doughnut. We decided to grab a snack before heading home after watching “Hidden Figures.”
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I would walk him in his stroller to Dunkin’ Donuts? How could this man with the scruffy beard be the same toddler that I would hand-feed pieces of Munchkins to so he wouldn’t choke? And is it true, had we really never seen a movie, just the two of us?
“Yeah Mom. We usually are with Dad, or Lizzy and Peter, or Grandpa. This is the first time it was just you and me.”
The minute he said it, I couldn’t help myself from wanting a do-over. That’s it, he can’t be grown up, because we haven’t seen more movies together, just him and me.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve been an at-home mom his whole life. I got to see first steps, hear his first words, and watch almost every play, field day, and concert he took part in. We’ve had our share of mother-son dates. Who cares if this was the first time we saw a movie alone together? Kathy, get a grip.
I’ve had so much time with him. But selfishly, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I’m not ready for him to graduate high school this June and move on to college.
Yes, it was our first movie alone, but would it also be our last? It was just luck that we went to this one together. Usually he spends his weekends with his friends. But since he has been gone so much lately, he decided to take it easy and stay home with us. There’s no girl in the picture yet. Once that happens, I won’t see him much at all.
I’m ashamed to admit this, but I didn’t even really want to go with him. Or with anyone for that matter. I’ve been so stressed-out dealing with my daughter and her special needs as well as just the daily grind of being a mom of three that all I wanted was a few hours in a movie theater by myself.
I said a silent prayer of thanks that I listened to my better angels and said yes to a date with my son.
As my mind rambled on, I could hear Tom talking. The film moved him greatly. Of course he knew that racism and sexism existed, but it was different seeing it play out on screen. How is it possible that such abuse went on back then? Why is it that it racism and sexism still plague us today? He marveled at the strength of the women at the center of the movie’s plot and of the actors’ performances.
I had to keep willing myself to stay present because a part of me couldn’t get over that this young man who was so articulately discussing the film was the same kid who, as a small child, was so speech-delayed his preschool teacher told me she doubted he would ever lead a “normal” life.
I’ve watched him work so hard to overcome his dyslexia and do things that other kids took for granted. There were days when I wondered if I was up to the task of guiding this amazing person. Yet here he was, sitting in front of me, speaking of the history of NASA, and talking about about camera angles and set production.
I wish I could go back to that young mom who was terrified that her child would be OK. I would grab her and tell her that she should relax a bit and enjoy her child. It all worked out fine. He is getting ready to spread his wings and leave the nest.
Of course, knowing myself, I wouldn’t have listened.
So I snap out of my fog, and do my best to enjoy the moment I have. Sip my coffee and be glad for a date with my son.
This piece was previously published on Kathy’s site, My Dishwasher’s Possessed!
Writer, Blogger, and the mind behind My Dishwasher's Possessed!

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