Mama's Speedball

I'll admit, that I have never done heavy drugs. Some light dabbling in college and in my twenties, but that's about the extent of my drug use. Goody goody two shoes for the most part.

Lately Alexandra has started offering me beer. No, I'm not like Betty Draper on Mad Men with my 3 year old daughter running to the fridge, grabbing a brewski and our pink parrot beer opener (a mother's day present from my friend/coworker/neighbor Jess who must have known of my need for a bottle opener that would be attractive to children), and handing me a cold one as I lounge on our crappy barf-stained couch eating bonbons. Unfortunately we're not at that literal level of play yet.

But whenever she's making pretend drinks at the beach, in the tub, in her kitchen, or with Nico she always runs over to me and either offers me a pretend coffee or a pretend beer. Obviously, that's all she thinks I drink.

And, you know, besides one cup of juice with breakfast and copious amounts of water, that is pretty much all a drink. It's mama's speedball. I get my high off my cup of coffee in the morning and another around 3pm and come down with a beer at night (usually only on weekends and I can barely finish one for those of you about to send me a link to AA). Some folks opt for the original speedball (cocaine then heroin), but I am fully addicted to the mama interpretation of one.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this one.

Alexandra has also said, "When I'm a grown up, I can drink coffee and beer!" Yeah, sweetie--you can. But until then, mama's speedball is only for mama.