Barf. Literally.

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I drank a bottle of wine last night.

WTF?!

After all the progress I’ve made?! WHY would I do that to myself?! I promised myself I would never drink a bottle of wine in one night again. I committed to not drinking wine at home for the month of March. And yet I did! I drank an entire bottle of wine at home last night. UGH!!!

… This is not actually my inner monologue. For once, I am not beating myself up about drinking too much. Instead of surrendering to my usual guilt spiral, and perhaps because I have not been drunk since December, I am reflecting on my behavior in a much more objective – and less damning, and less damaging – way.

This is fairly remarkable for me, as I am a frequent passenger on the guilt train. One of the reasons I so desperately signed up for Dry January is that I was in a heinous cycle of waking every morning if not fully hungover, at least puffy, groggy and stale; committing to not drinking that day; then feeling frayed by the time the witching hour rolled around and pouring myself a glass of wine anyway, which would inevitably become three or four glasses (if not more) by the time I went to bed in a haze; and start all over again the next morning. I knew I needed a clean break from this cycle and that is what I achieved.

I conquered Dry January and felt on top of the world. Yet I was not ready to say goodbye to wine forever. So over the last five weeks I have been attempting moderation: drinking when I am out at night or on vacation, and not drinking at home.

The freedom I felt during Dry January has evaporated. To drink or not to drink is now a choice again. And making this choice takes energy. Willpower. And willpower is a finite resource.

So last night, when our power finally came back on after four long days, I was out of willpower. I wanted tortilla chips and wine and I didn’t even try to fight these unhealthy urges – despite simultaneously composing yesterday’s post about how empowering my first year on Weight Watchers had been.

I copped to the chips and chocolate in yesterday’s post, but I left out the wine. Why did I do that? I’ll be totally honest: I didn’t want my Connect friends to think less of me. Because opening that bottle made ME think a little less of me.

And at the same time, I was curious to revisit my old ways. So I allowed myself to surrender to old habits, slugging back the Sauvignon Blanc while feeding my kids dinner, and finishing the bottle a couple of hours later. My husband and I had a delightfully normal night of eating dinner on the couch while watching “Fixer Upper.” I didn’t get sloppy. But I didn’t necessarily enjoy my buzz either.

We went to bed. And a few hours later, half-asleep, I made my way to the bathroom and I threw up.

I FREAKING THREW UP.

I threw up from drinking an amount of wine which, by the time I reached the end of 2017, was what I’d imbibe on any given evening. Yikes.

I woke up feeling predictably gross this morning, and perversely grateful that I got sick overnight because at least I was able to purge some of the junk from my system. I have felt nasty and eaten tons of crap all day as my family and I weather cabin fever during yet another snow storm.

But you know what? Ain’t got time or energy to beat myself up. Instead, I am choosing to reflect and learn from my experience. And here’s what I learned:

Dry January helped my body reset its tolerance for alcohol and break from habitual drinking. And it made me feel like a million bucks. Drinking in front of my kids makes me feel like a loser. And consuming an entire bottle of wine now makes me sick. Good to know!

I really, really wish I hadn’t wanted to open that bottle last night. The last four days of not being able to stay in our house, coming on the heels of three routine-less weeks of travel, snow days, and illnesses, were the whipped cream and cherry on top of a big ol’ cortisol sundae. I was vibrating with stress by the time the power came back on last night. And the only thing I could think of to help me chillax was wine.

These were exceptional circumstances, and I’m disappointed that I resorted to old habits. Throwing up last night and feeling like crap today have been effective reminders of why I broke those habits in the first place. All I can hope is to continue this process of self-reflection, to continue to evolve, with grace and without judgement. Perhaps next time I’ll be strong enough to not open that bottle.

Oh Hi. What am I Doing Here?

Hey there! I took this blog (and its lovely Insta-sistah, @maintaining_mama) public last night so I thought now would be a good time for a proper introduction.

Like so many other women on the cusp between Gen X and Gen Y, my name is Jen. I actually just Googled what generation I am and apparently those of us on the cusp are technically Xennials now? Not sure how I feel about that.

I’m a stay-at-home mom (or SAHM, as we hashtag it these days) burbin’ it up outside NYC. My kiddos are six and four and like every other parent, I believe that they are the greatest human beings to ever grace this planet. Also like every other parent (whether you admit it or not, you know it’s true) there are times that my children are maniacal devil spawn who break me down into a sobbing ball of rage. They’re the best though. Seriously.

I also have a husband and two dogs to round out my chock-full-o-love but chaotic existence. Oh, and I try my best to balance three volunteer gigs: colon cancer non-profit, local ambulance corps, and PTA (obv).

In other words, WTF am I thinking starting a blog?! Ain’t got time for that!

Oh but I must. This is what I’m learning. Writing makes me happy. Thinking thoughts – both big and small – about my diet, exercise, relationship with booze, and general existence as a 37-year-old-25-lbs-lighter mama on the cusp of having some semblance of a life again now that my kids are older – and taking the time to write some of these thoughts down, IS IMPORTANT. Maybe even vital.

I need this time right now. I need this outlet. It is going to make me happier, more fulfilled, a better mom and wife and person. (This is me trying to convince myself that taking this time for ME, to do something I enjoy, is OK. Mom guilt, begone!)

But enough about me. What are YOU doing here?

Seriously if anyone on the interwebs besides my mom has read this far, I am sending you a big ol’ hug. I honestly don’t know what this blog will become, if or how it will resonate with anyone else. But if you’re here, welcome. And thank you. And I really, really hope you find some comfort here. Maybe some inspiration, maybe a much-needed smile.

I promise to be real. I don’t have time to be anything else, y’all. I am far from Pinterest-perfect and I hope I stay that way. Because real life can be pretty darn exquisite, when you’re not scooping dog poop or covered in your kid’s puke. And some of the time, I am neither of those things.

Some of the time, I am strong. I am energized. I am motivated. I am eating clean. I am working out five times a week. I am balanced.

And some of the time, I’m raiding my pantry. I’m PMSing. I’m crying. I’m dropping F-bombs in front of my kids. I’m drinking too much wine. I’m in a dismal slump.

I hope that this blog will help me spend more time on the living-my-best-life side of the spectrum and less time on the tortilla-chip-and-sauvignon-blanc-binging side. And who knows. As this little project makes its way in the crazy congested blogosphere, maybe I won’t be the only one.