The Eternal Batchelor posted this about an article about a book called "Mommies Who Drink."
No it is not a book about the evils of drinking mommies, rather it is about how women shouldn't sacrifice their lives to child raising.
That hurts just to read.
My mom was an alcoholic. She remained and on and off drunk until she died of old age at the age of 55. It wasn't an overdose, it wasn't a car accident. We figured it would be one of those two in the end. No, she died in her sleep, her body just gave up after too many years of too much drinking. Martinis were a favorite, when she wasn't just drinking straight vodka.
Being the youngest of three, I never knew a sober mom. My older sisters say she was a great mom before she started drinking. My dad still speaks of her very fondly, even though they divorced about thirty years ago and she has been dead for fifteen. He says she was just an incredible mother and wife before the drinking. The would have celebrated their golden anniversary next year. He still regrets that he didn't try harder to keep things together. He mentioned this last just in September when I went to visit him and we took a trip out to the farm that he and my grandpa had a dairy on. He showed me where he and mom had talked about building a house.
I never knew a sober mom. Before I can remember my dad said he came home from work one day to the smell of smoke coming from a burning pot of potatoes on the stove. The water had completely boiled off. I was there on the floor, in diapers, playing with blocks and mom was passed out on the couch.
Having never known a sober mom, I couldn't tell when she was drunk. At least not until she got behind the wheel of a car and couldn't keep it between the lines. And yes, I have been in the car with her when she was drunk at least three times that I can remember. I can remember being 8 and telling my mom to watch out for the stop sign, slow down that light is red. Please mom I don't really want to go on this picnic, lets just go home and watch TV.
My parents split up when I was 8 because of the alcohol. I went with my dad. Visiting mom was like spending time with a silly, crazy friend. She was fun but she wasn't really a mom. When I was 9 and over to visit her. I still couldn't tell she was drunk. She was just taking a nap on the couch. I asked her if I could go play games at the arcade. This was back when Space Invaders, Asteroids and Galaga were new. She gave me $80 in cash and called a cab to take me to the arcade. I knew she gave me a lot of money but I didn't really have any idea how much it was until the guy have me two rolls of quarters for just one of those $20 bills. Do you know how long you can play video games with two pockets full of quarters? You also make a lot of friends with that many quarters. I didn't even have to cash in another $20 for more quarters before I was ready to go home. The problem was that I didn't know where home was. I didn't know my mom's address. I could describe what the apartment complex looked like but I didn't know what the name of it was. In a city like Portland, OR there are many apartment complexes that fit the description. I had to call my dad. He was very angry. He took the remaining money away from me. It was probably his in the first place, having gone to mom in an alimony check.
By the time I was 15 my mother moved back to Canada to be closer to my grandma. I went to visit her the summer I was 15. It was great she lived close to the Okanagan lake in Summerland, BC. We would go buy a bag of fruit and just sit on the beach and read or do what ever came to mind. It was great. When it was time to go home she wanted to drive me rather than put me on a bus. She could visit friends in Portland that way. I actually did most of the driving because I had a learner's permit. When we got close to Portland she said she would drive since I didn't really know the way through the big city and I was still just a learner. We didn't get far before I realized that she was piss drunk. I have no idea how she pulled that off. I don't remember letting her out of my sight short of when she went to the bathroom, but some how she got a hold of a big ol' jug of wine and got hammered while I wasn't looking. I told her that I really needed to use the bathroom again and as soon as she pulled over I had to physically take the keys from her and make her get in the passenger seat. That was the most terrifying driving experience of my life. I had to drive though downtown Portland coming in on 84 and trying to get to Beaverton on the other side. If you know Portland then you know that 84 ends in downtown and it is not exactly a straight shot to Beaverton. At least it wasn't back in the mid 80's. Crazy rush hour traffic and white knuckles all the way.
When 23 and just finishing up college I saw my mom for the last time. She was visiting friends in Albany, not far from where I was going to school in Corvallis, OR. I went to pick her up in my broken down Honda and took her to a movie and DQ. She was so helpless, so dependent. She was like a kid. It was heartbreaking but I was just glad to see her. I didn't know that would be the last time I would see her. I was lucky. That last time with her was nice. My sister's argued with her the last time they saw. Even when you know that your mother is going to die sooner or later because of the alcohol it still hits you like a ton of bricks when it happens. My dad called me one bright Saturday summer morning less than a year later, to tell me that something terrible had happened. My first though was that someone died. A cousin? An aunt or uncle? Maybe grandma. I wasn't ready to hear that my mom died.
This is how I remember my mommy who drank.