It goes without saying that I like a drink, even if you don’t know me very well, it’s pretty obvious that I like a gin and tonic at the end of a hard day.
Plus, there’s #FizzFriday which, thanks to Aldi, I can partake in most Friday nights to celebrate the commencement of the weekend. Glasses of cooking wine always go down well, and OH-EM-GEE that first sip of Pimms in the sunshine.
*closes eyes and thinks of sunny afternoon drinks*
But here’s the thing, I don’t actually get drunk very often. In fact, I hate getting drunk; I think it’s the control freak in me. Oh, and the fact that I hate looking like a tit. I’ve done all that, and if I’m totally honest, I think I’m too old. It wasn’t particularly clever falling down and wasting my Sunday morning ten years ago, and it’s even less clever now, when not only does it impact my morning, but a husband and two children.
I’m not saying I’m an angel, that I sit on my little cloud judging all of you who go out on the piss, I’m just saying it’s really not for me, and when I let my guard down and let myself get carried away with it all, crossing the line from tipsy and giddy to well URGH, I resent myself for being a knob and overindulging (the same feeling I have today after eating three more slices of pizza then I should have last night).
But like I said, it’s not just about me any more is it? I have two small boys with eyes like hawks and ears like…well small children absorbing comments that can embarrass you at a later date. It’s my responsibility that they understand the dangers of alcohol. After watching many many episodes of Kavos Uncovered, and Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents, I’m determined to educate my children that you can still have fun without falling asleep in your own vomit.
And so I’ve taken the massive bullet and chosen to drink in front of my kids. I KNOW, I AM SELFLESS.
But joking aside, it’s part of the age-old rule isn’t it?
Everything in moderation.
So, I drink wine with dinner, and I let them try it. My seven year old has a clear view of what alcohol he likes. He loves a glass of rose with Sunday dinner (he ends up having 3 sips then moves onto water), he often sneaks a mouthful of his dad’s beer and – THANKFULLY – he’s not a fan of gin. In fact, he probably sees it as an equivalent to him having a Diet Coke.
He’s never seen me drunk, or act like a dick, and I hope he never does, because that would indicate it’s okay for him to do so, and it’s not.
When he gets older, and goes out underage drinking, which we all know will happen, I am going to sit him down and show him scenes from the TV programmes I’ve listed above. Or the modern day equivalent, and hopefully, the transparency and lack of stigma to booze will work in our favour.
Either that, or he’ll be an alcoholic by the time he starts secondary school. But hopefully not…
About Aimee Horton
Aimee never remembers her age. Not because she is in denial, she just appears to be physically incapable of doing so. It’s her birthday on Friday 18th March though (JUST SAYING). She’s an author who does a bit of branding on the side, and lives with her husband and two children in Lincoln. When Aimee isn’t working all hours God sends, she likes to drink gin, cook, and run.
Image: Aimee Horton