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.  

Motherhood With an Invisible Illness Feels Like Surviving in Plain Sight

In: Living
Mother holding sleeping child

There’s a kind of exhaustion that’s impossible to translate. Not the “I stayed up too late” tired. Not even the newborn, up-every-two-hours kind of tired. It’s something heavier. The kind that settles deep into your bones and makes even the simplest task feel like you’re pushing against gravity. Living with Sjögren’s syndrome and discoid lupus while raising young kids means carrying a weight no one else can see, and one that’s almost impossible to understand unless you’ve lived it yourself. The closest comparison I’ve ever found is the first trimester of pregnancy. That overwhelming, all-consuming fatigue where your body feels...

Keep Reading

These Simple Summers Will Live In My Heart Forever

In: Living
Kids playing in water in yard

There’s something I love about summers with the kids, more than any other time of the year. It’s not my favorite season, not even close. But I will always look back on the summers spent with our kids as some of the most beautiful, joyful, yet simple memories of our life together. And that’s just it—it’s the simplicity of summer that makes it so magical. It’s the weightlessness of “nowhere to be,” and the way the kids settle into a routine that’s not a routine at all. I love watching them run through the yard, popsicle in hand, red strawberry...

Keep Reading

We’re Trusting God through Unemployment

In: Living
Family posing by wooden wall

The calendar tells me that almost three months ago today, my husband and I resigned from our joint position as house parents in a residential foster care ministry. Three months of no income. Three months of moving to a new state, navigating new doctors, two brand new schools for our daughters, and a smaller living space. Three months of looking at each other and knowing how hard it is to wait for a paycheck. One day, I dared to check the bank account, and my body quivered when I saw the balance. We had savings, but I am pretty sure...

Keep Reading

Some Friendships Are Not Meant To Last Forever

In: Friendship
Landscape photo

I remember hearing as a child that not all friendships last forever. Back then, I didn’t believe it. Not my friendships. We had grown up together—through elementary school, through high school. We were inseparable. Plans were made around each other, and life felt like it would always look that way. But life has a way of changing things. I became a young mom, trying to figure out who I was while also learning how to be everything my children needed. At the same time, I was still holding tightly to the friendships that had been part of my life for...

Keep Reading

My Sister-In-Law Is the Sister I Always Wanted

In: Living
Two women friends smiling

There’s a very specific kind of longing that sometimes comes with growing up without a sister. Yes, I had half-siblings on my dad’s side, but they were older and out there living their adult lives. My brother and I were always very close despite the age difference. He was the cool, funny, rockstar big brother who was (and always will be) a big kid at heart, and I was incredibly grateful for that. But still, there was always this quiet, persistent longing for something else: a sister. Someone who would be mine in that way only sisters understand. You know,...

Keep Reading

The Life I Love Was Built From the Life That Broke Me

In: Living, Marriage
Family of four

In my early- to mid-twenties, everything felt like it was unraveling. I was depressed, uninspired, dealing with health issues I didn’t fully understand, and carrying the weight of past trauma I didn’t yet have the language for. At the same time, I was wading through a dating pool that felt more like I was unintentionally starring in an episode of Punk’d, all while still carrying the scars of a serious relationship that ended in betrayal—cheating that didn’t just break my heart, but shattered my sense of trust in a way I wasn’t prepared for. For a while, I stayed there....

Keep Reading

My Mom Was Just 13 When I Was Born. Now That I’m a Mother, I See Her Differently.

In: Living
Young girl and teenage mother

There are only 13 years and 11 months between us. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been—how lonely it must have felt at times. A childhood cut short, replaced with responsibilities that were night and day. Confusion and love, all wrapped into one. Growing up, it felt like I had a big sister beside me. A friend I loved with everything in me. But she wasn’t just a friend. She was my mother. I relied on her for guidance, for reassurance, for someone to look up to. And now I find myself wondering, how could she give me...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

I Never Got to Meet My Grandmother on This Side of Heaven

In: Living
Old black and white family photo

Grandmother, I never met you this side of Heaven, but I feel as though I have. Your pictures, scattered throughout my mother’s home, tell your story. Born to a woman who came to this country alone when she was just 16, you would be the youngest of four, with two sisters and a brother. Your short, dark, straight hair clings to your little face, a line of bangs neatly combed high on your forehead. You couldn’t be more than three years old as you sit on a stool at your sister’s First Holy Communion. The black and white photo makes...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading