The end of the rope

Dear wine and chocolate,

I love you.

No reason to beat around the bush.

I love you.

No reason not to say it twice.

You were there for me when the kids played with the silly string in the aerosol can. The silly string that I told them they could play with only in the driveway; the silly string that of course made its way into the grass, onto the front of my house, and across all of my windows in the time it took me to use the bathroom.

You were there for me when my husband left his coat at the bottom of the garage stairs for more that 3 days; choosing to step on it, walk around it, and ignore it rather than actually pick it up.

You were there for me when the dog chose to destroy my most favorite pair of flip flops instead of eating any of the other fifty shoes in the mudroom.

You were there for me when I returned from the animal hospital having spent one hundred and eighty four dollars to induce vomiting in the dog and thus free my once favorite flip flops one piece at a time lest they clog his god damned bowels. On my wedding anniversary.

You were there for me when my youngest daughter thought it best to shove popcorn kernels up both of her nostrils, god forbid she not maintain perfect symmetry.

You were there for me when my husband taped a turkey baster to the end of the vacuum tube in hopes of suctioning said kernels from said nose.

You were there for me when my husband shoved said contraption up his own nose in order to prove to our child that it “didn’t hurt.”

You were there for me when I explained all of this to the ER doctor who already knows us by name, and when I explained that none of it worked despite our best asinine efforts.

You were there for me when the ice cream man thought it best to drive his truck through my neighborhood three times in one night… the very night I told my kids that they could not get ice cream.

You were there for me when said ice cream truck decided to literally park at the end of my driveway, incessantly playing his song (clearly composed by the devil himself), while my children threw themselves to the ground, whining and screaming as only they know how.

You were there for me when my husband called to ask if we had any plans for this Sunday, when I knew full well that he was really asking if he could be gone all day and thus leave me home alone (again) with the kids while he attempted to reclaim his youth on a lacrosse field.

You were there for me when my kids decided it was irresistibly funny to sing “FIGARO” repeatedly and at full volume during dinner, resulting in violent choking episodes that I was reluctant to Heimlich because it meant they’d sing again.

You were there for me when my daughter told me I had beautiful legs. When she told me they were so big.

You have been there for me through thick and thin. You have stood by me when I needed you most. So I ask you now, why? WHY? Why are you not here tonight, when once more I find the dirty laundry thrown on the floor, right next to the empty hamper? Why are you not here tonight when I tell the kids that we’re having peas and they respond as if I’m serving arsenic? Why are you not here when I have 100 papers to grade and no interest in doing so? Why are you not here when my 4 year old insists on tapping on my arm five hundred and twenty times before she asks me anything or says anything? Why are you not here when one kid hides in the other kid's closet, meaning to scare her, and instead slams her head on the wire shelving, resulting in tears? Why? Where have you gone? Why is your shelf in the fridge empty? Why do you not wait for me in the pantry? Did another mother need you more than me? Don't even try it. I think not. We both know better.

Oh wine and chocolate, why have you abandoned me in my time of need? Please come back. I beg you! I’ll never let you feel under-appreciated or under-valued again. I will never, ever take you for granted. I know how that feels. So come back.

(I swear, I’d head out on my own to find you right now, but alas, the dog has shit on the rug and the kids are licking and slapping each other in the hall. Oh, and the husband has yet to come home and says he’ll be late.)

With all my love always,
Alice Levine (the mom)