the sorrow and the pity

I'm abstaining from alcohol for a month, and by God, I really wanted a drink these past few days. The day before yesterday I did a favor for another mother (I owe her quite a few favors, so I was glad to be able to pay one back), which involved in part driving her child in the car with both Lola and Iris. Now THAT is a situation designed to drive one to drink: the other child, whom we shall refer to as Lawyer Jr., unlike other younger children has no fear or awe of the older Iris Uber Alles.

In the car, Lola and her friend, Lawyer Jr., were squawking about Iris. "She pushes us! She bosses us!"

"Guys, you have to wait until Iris actually does something wrong before you complain to me. She hasn't done anything wrong yet!"

Iris chimed in ominously: "Yeah, wait until I do something wrong."

Lawyer, Jr. was undeterred by that veiled threat, and the chorus continued, unabated: "She is the boss of us! She bosses us! She pushes us! We don't want her!"

I tried drowning them out with music, but Lola has sensitive ears. "Too loud, Mommy!"

Iris started demanding that they be silent, and I had to weigh in that they were allowed to talk, although I felt they shouldn't complain unless Iris actually sinned. In any event, by the time we got home, my frayed nerves were screaming for the comfort of sweet, sweet alcohol. I stayed the course, however.

Again yesterday was a trying day for the old nerves, but I managed to slug down several glasses of plain tonic water instead of anything alcoholic. The old husband went out to get the tonic water in his support for the month of drying out (indeed, his supportiveness borders upon being insulting). Nearly three weeks down, just a bit over one week to go.