A Gift for Mom! 🤍

The first time I tried alcohol I was in eighth grade. I snuck out after my parents were asleep and walked around the pond to a neighbor’s house. For the next couple of hours, I proceeded to drink vodka mixed with something I can’t remember and then stumbled back home. 

I loved it so much, I went back the next night to do it again.

I should have known at that moment my relationship with alcohol would be a complicated, reckless, and potentially dangerous one.

RELATED: I Was a Really Good Liar, But I Finally Got Caught

Alcohol is something that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I come from a long line of professional drinkers who are always up for a good time. Was my childhood like an episode of ABC Afterschool Special? Far from it. But let’s just say, when my family would get together with other family members, or friends, the mission was always fun with a capital F.

Everyone around me drank, and I assumed when you grow up, that’s what you do. You drink. And I guess at some point I decided grown-up meant eighth grade.

From the moment I had my first sip, there was something about it that drew me in.

Maybe it was losing my inhibitions? Or just the feeling that comes with drinking one too many?

I was the wild and crazy girl who used to hop on stage with the band at the bar. The complete life of the party. And in some waysI still am this way.

I was also the girl who was responsible and involved. Who signed up for things and tried to help others. And I’m still this way, too.

When I was in high school, I was the picture-perfect, All-American teenager. I took honors classes, was captain of the cross-country team, a class officer, student council member, in art club, honor society, cheerleader, track runner, and more. I ironically even started a chapter of SADD with some friends. And while I was doing all of these things that looked so good on the outside, I also found myself drinking and dancing with friends every Friday and Saturday night. I didn’t think anything of it. It was just what I did.

After I really started to live for Jesus, I took a long break from alcohol. I would drink on occasion but not often.

RELATED: I Used To Be a Party Girl, Then Christ Grabbed Hold of Me

Then after my children were a little older, I allowed alcohol to come back into my life a little more regularly. We would hang out with neighbors while the kids played, enjoy a meal and some drinks. 

And I began to realize this relationship that started off with a bang and fizzled into nearly nothing is still complicated, and one that needs to be kept in check.

Unlike most people who drink and don’t think much of it, my alcohol antennae always seems to be up. I allow myself to drink but realize because of my genetics and propensity for unbridled fun, I always need to be aware of how much I’m consuming. If I begin to have a drink nightly, then I’m probably not in a good place.

RELATED: I’m Tired of Defending My Choice Not To Drink

We live in a culture where alcohol is celebrated. We see the shirts and the mugs talking about “Mommy’s sippy cup,” “They whine, I wine,” “Rose all day,” and “Blame champagne,” to name a few. It is understood and accepted that moms are stressed and the solution to this has become to unwind, relax, and let your hair down with a glass of wine.

But is this healthy?

In this time when we find ourselves at home, I really believe we will need to keep our propensities for any addictions in check.

Alcohol, food, idleness, social mediaif we aren’t careful, we may find ourselves trying to escape our current situations with these things that provide temporary enjoyment but can ultimately lead down a rabbit hole of self-destruction.

Last week, I allowed myself to drink more than I usually would. It was spring break, and we were supposed to be in Florida but due to circumstances decided to stay home. After the kids were in bed, I poured myself a glass of wine and lay on the couch watching television and attempting to relax.

I realized one night as I was lying there, that I need to be careful that this doesn’t become my new norm.

Friends, this is a unique time. A time when we are at home with our loved ones with nowhere to go and nobody to see. It’s a time when anxieties can be heightened, and we can let things go that we otherwise wouldn’t.

It’s a time when, if we aren’t careful, addictions can rear their ugly heads in the form of comfort, self-medication, and self-help.

I am thankful that God brought this to my attention last week.

I pray for all of you who have addictive personalities. I pray God removes those chains and you find the strength to persevere during this time of social isolation and uncertainty.

RELATED: There is a Hope That Will Not Disappoint

Let’s be sure to check on each other. And encourage one another toward health and wellness.

Do you want to enjoy a glass of wine? Go ahead. But maybe not the entire bottle.

Feel like a cookie? Have at it. But maybe not the entire sleeve.

Want to watch Netflix? Enjoy. But maybe not for hours and hours and days and days on end.

Let’s give ourselves grace during this time.

I realize I may have one more glass of wine than normal, or a few more cookies, or a little more TVbut I need to be aware if it becomes a pattern. Or if it becomes something I feel like I have to do to relax, or cope, or get through the day.

We will get through this, friends. One day at a time. Together.

RELATED: Dear Neighbor, We’re in This Together

Let’s encourage one another. Let’s spur one another on. Let’s pray for each other. Let’s hold each other accountable. Let’s be sure to still connect with those we love through FaceTime, Skype, Voxer, Zoom, or one of the many other apps available to us.

And let’s be honest about our struggles and shortcomings.

Because we all have them.

Sometimes all someone needs to know is that other people are struggling, too. That someone is there for you. And that, regardless of what you are going through, you aren’t alone. 

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Jennifer Thompson

Jennifer Thompson is a freelance writer, preschool art teacher and mother of four with a heart for Jesus. Her work can be found on a number of blogs and parenting publications. Recently relocated from Indianapolis to Nashville, Tennessee. She is a passionate storyteller and believes every person has an important story to tell. We grow when we share. And even more when we listen.  

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living
Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship
Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living
Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship
Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading