Remembering

My son has another chorus concert today.  Last night at about 11:30 pm (teenagers!) he texted me to ask me to iron his tuxedo shirt in the morning so he would have it for the concert. (Yep - we had to buy him a tux...his father doesn't even own a tux! And yes - he texts me at night after I've gone to bed to remind me of things because he knows I'll check my phone first thing in the morning.  Most of my family lives a very tech-savvy life...most meaning everyone except my husband - but he's trying.)

So ANYWAY - I got the text and responded, "Of course I'll iron your shirt. Now go to bed and let me sleep." 

This morning I woke up and didn't even have to look at my phone because I remembered that he had asked me.  While this doesn't sound like a big deal to most folks - it's a huge hairy deal for this recovering alcoholic.

At the end of my drinking days I couldn't remember shit from the night before.  My children would have long conversations with me about...well..I can't really remember...but when they would talk about it later and I would give them that blank stare they'd say, "Mom - don't you remember?  We talked about it last night?"
I HATED that.  I would make up some lame ass excuse about how I was getting old or that I must have been watching TV or how my mind must have been elsewhere, knowing full well they KNEW why I couldn't remember.  At the end I was just saying, "Hey guys, don't tell me anything important if I'm drinking wine because you know I won't remember. Ha ha."  Somewhere in my alcohol soaked pea brain I thought that telling them this was acceptable!  <cringe>

I dropped the ball too.  There were things they needed for school or just because that they mentioned and I not only didn't remember but even if by some miracle I did, I couldn't drag my hungover ass out of bed early enough to get it done.  This was the worst because I do not, ever, want to disappoint any of my children or let them down in any way.  I hate that look of disappointment and I know that feeling all too well.

I lived in the land of disappointment.  I never had what I needed for school.  I was the one who's lunch was never right.  Who's clothes were never ironed.  Who never had enough money for whatever activity was happening that day.  That feeling of not belonging, of being on the outside, of never being prepared was something I never wanted my children to feel.  So I've always gone WAY overboard to make sure it didn't happen.  So much so that sometimes you could hear them begging me to please stop and let them breathe a little (just a little mind you - and always with a smile and a kiss)...that is until the drinking got so bad that I made myself believe that they didn't need me and that they were old enough to fend for themselves or that their dad could handle it.  All so I could drink more and longer and isolate...  Oh.  My.  God.

But now I'm back and in the interest of doing what any good guilt ridden, recovering alcoholic making amends will do...STAND BACK KIDS...mommy's back in town.  Clothes will be ironed.  Cookies will be baked.  Sheets will be changed and clean towels will once again magically appear in your bathroom twice a week (why don't men care about these things?).  Girlfriends will be shopped for, conversations will be had (and I will remember), birthdays will once again return to the level of spectacular they once were.  And if you can't breathe?  Tough shit.

This is why I love this blog...because it gives me the opportunity to use something as simple as a text written at an ungodly hour to remind me why I'm sober and help me stay that way.

Thank you God.

Amen.