On Friday I started drinking root beer at 10:30 a.m.
Please don't judge me, it's just that sometimes water doesn't cut it, you know. Sometimes you need the hard stuff to deal with the hard stuff.
Like when your son tells you that one of his best friend's parents are getting divorced. Parents that you know. That you've spent time with. That took your son to Las Vegas not two months ago.
And now the mom is gone. Just like that. POOF! And this is not the first mom who has disappeared into thin air on him. This is the 2nd mom.
How many disappearing mom's can one teenage boy take?
Who's going to do his laundry? Who's going to make him eat his broccoli? What if he forgets his math book, or his lunch money? Who will rush to the junior high to save him?
These questions keep me up at night. Fer reals! I lay in bed, wide-eyed, and stare into the dark, imagining him at school, all wrinkled and hungry, without a math book.
And then I get up and pour myself a root beer. And sometimes, if I imagine him sitting at lunch with all his friends, but without a lunch, I make it a root beer float. On the rocks!
The worst part is that last year at this time a different best friend's parents split up. Parents that we knew. Parents that we spent time with. That took my son to Las Vegas not two months before the mom disappeared into thin air.
I drank a lot of root beer over that vanishing act too!
(Do you think it's my son's fault?) (Huh? huh? huh?) (If anyone ever asks him to go to Las Vegas again, do you think I should lock them in their house, light a thousand candles and make them listen to Mozart until they promise to stay together forever?)
Anyway, all of this root beer has helped me decide what I want to be when I grow up. A mom. I want to be a mom. The kind who hides her children's math books just so she can rush to the junior high to let them know she's still around.
If anyone knows anyone who knows anyone who needs a mom like that, will you let them know I'm available?