The shower was great – things went beautifully, smoothly, and without a hitch.
And I couldn’t have pulled it off without my husband.
I have, and am going to continue to, spend a lot of time complaining about his drinking, but I also have to give him props for what is one of his truly best qualities – his willingness to help just about anyone with just about anything. That includes things like my daughter’s baby shower.
The week leading up to it was horrid. I’d planned to go into the office in the mornings and take my afternoons off to take care of the preparations. With the addition of my step-daughter and grandson those plans became untenable and I spent my entire week at home attempting to prepare for the shower, but mostly taking care of G while my SD set up office in my dining room (where, consequently, I was doing most of my prep for the shower) and worked. While she was on the phone or working, I was distracting G, and while she wasn’t, she was talking to and distracting me (she has this thing about being the center of attention). Add in a few glitches, like my printer going wonky while I was trying to print out the custom decorations I’d purchased, and, well, you get the idea. Thank goodness my husband and son vacuumed the carpets, swept the tile, cleaned the downstairs bathroom and hung the decorations for me Friday night because I had NO time to do any of it.
Oh, and where was my SD while all of this was going on? She took G and went out with friends. You didn’t expect her to hang around and help out or anything, did you?
At any rate, I sprang out of bed at 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning and began decorating the cake and cupcakes that should have been decorated the day before.
I’m not displeased with how it came out except for the emblem on top, which should have been the same shade of red as the diaper and cape on the baby, but it rained ALL day, and was so warm and humid that the moment I added the food coloring, the fondant became too tacky and sticky to work with, even after kneading in additional powdered sugar – the amount of red food coloring needed to make it match would have rendered the fondant unusable.
I finally finished about 10 a.m., thanks to the sticky fondant, and then we started on the food and getting everything organized. It was down to the wire, but we were ready to rock and roll by 2 p.m. and everyone had a great time. My daughter was thrilled and that’s what it was all about, so I’m one happy Mom.
So, what is driving me crazy? About an hour before the shower was supposed to start, my husband pulled out the cocktail shaker and poured two martinis into regular glasses (gin looks an awfully lot like water, you know). He handed one to me, and I sat it aside and forgot about it. I did pick it up a few minutes after the guests began arriving – half of them brought their kids, which I was completely unprepared for – and sipped it over the next 2 hours. My husband managed to misplace his – I found it yesterday on one of the DVD shelves in the living room – so he immediately switched to his absolutely favorite drink: unsweetened iced tea and vodka.
Yeah, it’s pretty much as repulsive as it sounds.
He was pretty moderate about it during the shower and immediately after; he drank steadily but slowly. We’d planned on making steaks, baked potatoes and salad for dinner, but it became obvious that neither of us had any energy for even that simple meal, so we went to our favorite restaurant. It was packed, so we sat at the bar…yeah, big mistake.
I had three of what I call “foo-foo” cocktails – you know, the kind that are heavy on the fruit juice/mixers and light on the booze (and usually come with a paper umbrella or lots of sliced fruit as a garnish); I was afraid I’d pass right out if I had anything stronger, I was so exhausted. My husband ordered one, too, and I thought, “Okay, good – we’re good.”
It didn’t stop there of course; before I had a chance to even think about my second cocktail, he ordered a margarita. Then a “very dry” martini – hello, straight gin. He wouldn’t let me drive home and then, halfway there, he pulled his one-hitter out of his pocket and lit up!
“Really, dear?” I asked. “Three cocktails AND some grass?” I didn’t mention the drinking he’d been doing all afternoon.
“Oh, I’m fine – I’m STRONG,” he replies.
And then, right after we passed a cop who was sitting in a parking lot just waiting for speeders (or intoxicated idiots), he began harassing another vehicle that was driving with their brights on – I mean slamming on the brakes and weaving over into the lane behind them, so he could flash his headlights at them. I was partly terrified the cop was going to come pull us over – and partly hoping they would, to be honest. I made myself a promise some time ago that if – okay, when – that happens I am not going to bail him out of jail.
Actions, meet consequences.
I am ashamed to admit how relieved I was to drop him off at the airport Sunday morning for a business trip. After last week’s chaos, several days of sober peace and quiet are just what the doctor ordered.