There can be several points throughout the day of taking care of Small Children that I think I might lose it. It can be a small moment where a deep breath does the trick; it can be a large moment where hiding in the closet works better, but we all have days when there is a Moment that you wistfully remember Those Days when, you know, you just like went to the movies and stuff and didn’t say words like Pick Up and Play-Date and a short person wasn’t losing their shit over an absurdly tiny piece of insignificant crap and the thought of pulling your hair out didn’t cross your mind 27 times a day. Most of these special moments for me occur between the hours of 5 and 7 p.m. The two hours of the day that can feel like 8; the two hours of Let’s Fight About Everything!; the two hours of WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR FATHER? Some folks refer to this time as the witching hour, but I, being a glass is half full kind of person, refer to it as Cocktail Hour.
I was in the middle of Cocktail Hour the other night, enjoying the many special benefits that come along with it, when I had a startling revelation: the Don Drapers of the world did not create Cocktail Hour. No...no they didn’t. Mothers did. Years ago, when Husbands across this land would come home from a long day of Not Taking Care of Wee Ones, Good Wife was there to greet him with a nice Scotch or Bourbon, but it’s only because her other hand had a firm grip on her own strong beverage and she didn’t want to share. At the risk of sounding like I may need my own Intervention one day, there really isn’t an evening that passes which does not involve my drinking a glass of wine. Or two. (Because you know, when you start at 5:30, one glass doesn’t always cut it.) Does it make me feel better? Yes. Is it delicious? Yes. Will I pour a glass for Husband when he strolls through the door? Yes. Unless I am mad at him for not being home while the World Was Ending and then he can pour his own damn glass.
You can now go ahead and add Inventing Cocktail Hour to your list of Why Women Are Awesome. Raise a glass for us...and then pass it over. (But first, put the kids to bed. I might do something really awesome then.)