Memories on a Sunday Morning

I don’t usually post on weekends but something happened last night that I need to get down on “paper” so I can examine it and figure out how I feel about it.  That’s what this blog does for me, it lets me get my thoughts out so that I can turn them around…examine them…flip them upside down…and then figure out how I feel about them.  The length of the post is directly proportionate to the complexity of the subject matter.

Anyway, my boys are working the tech crew for their high school’s spring production of Guys and Dolls.  They’ve roped my husband in also and what this means is that, since opening night is this Thursday, I’m alone a lot this weekend.  It’s nice.  I’m enjoying the quiet and solitude.

When I was drinking I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate the alone time during the day.  I hadn’t yet learned to be alone with my own thoughts so being by myself left me feeling discontent and restless.  The nights of course were a different story.  Being alone was exactly what I preferred because I could probably get an extra bottle in before they got home, drink a glass out of the next bottle so that it looked liked I just got started, and save the third bottle for after everyone went to bed.  I thought I was so slick…

So yesterday my husband got home about seven and the boys went with the rest of the crew to a local restaurant to enjoy some young adult bonding and have some dinner.  I’m sure they showed their ass but that’s what teens do.  Mine included…I always feel sorry for the wait staff.

About 10:30 they came bounding through the door with a group of friends in tow.  They were laughing and introducing kids and I was hugging it out (I’m a hugger) and asking if anyone wanted anything.  They hung around for awhile, were invited to breakfast this morning before they head off to school, and then they left.  My boys then spent the next hour and a half filling me in on all the hijinks’s that occurred during the day and by midnight I was pooped.

This morning as I jumped out of bed to shower and ask the hubs to go to the grocery store so we (he) could prepare breakfast for this group of heathen children (my pet name for my kids is heathens), it occurred to me – this could/would have never happened when I was drinking.  They would not have likely brought anyone home that late for fear of what condition I might be in and what I might do to embarrass them.  They would never have invited anyone over for breakfast this morning because they would have known that I would have had a hangover and not wanted company.  Thank you God for helping me to quit before they had to experience this….

And then I remembered…I remembered all the missed sleepovers and girl talk that could have occurred in my bedroom as a teen.  They never happened because I never knew in what condition my father would be.  I remembered that I never joined any after school activities because I knew I had to go straight home and check on him (I was the oldest…typical child of an alcoholic behavior).  I remembered walking on egg shells all of the time.  I remember being an adult way before I had any business being an adult.

And so as I was rushing around to shower and look presentable for this group of kids, I made sure to say a big THANK YOU to the Big Guy this morning for bringing me out of that hell and thereby sparing my children a repeat of my childhood.  I thank him for a clear head, and settled stomach and children who will never know the hell of being a teenager with a raging alcoholic for a parent.

Now pardon me while I set the table and help the hubs…these kids eat A LOT.

Happy Sunday everyone.


One thought on “Memories on a Sunday Morning

  1. Oh… this is sooo magnificent! At last you broke the curse and your children will only remember you for the brilliant woman that you actually and truly are.

    Gosh, you live such a wonderful life, no matter what – it is full of love. It's a blessing and I am so grateful and happy for you, that you are sober and not wasting your life of that damndest alcohol. God I hate alcohol. The more stories I read the more I hate it, I never want to take another sip again. I will remain strong and not to run away, but to face life. There is so much good that comes with it 🙂 Even all the bad is eventually a good thing!

    Hahaa every time I read a post of yours I feel great thankfulness – thank you so much for sharing *hugs*

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