I now realise that I’m much nicer when I’m allowed to have a drink

THREE days into Dry January and it’s all over! I lasted from Sunday to Wednesday whilst Himself held out till Saturday just to win the bet.

With this failure came the realisation that I am a much nicer person when I am allowed to have a drink!

Does this make me an alcoholic? Don’t think so. Does it make me dependent on drink? Probably. But sure we all have to be dependent on something! It could be worse. I could be hooked on crack cocaine. And if gets you through the day, makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside and you’re not hurting anyone, what’s the harm?

By the way I’m not looking for approval, just in case you were thinking of giving me the go ahead. Or not. I really don’t care either way. I’m still going to have my glass of white wine most nights because it makes me happy. Even the prospect of it as I battle through traffic to do the school run, or peel the spuds for the dinner, or do any of a number of thankless tasks mothers do on a daily basis, makes me happy.

The family are in total agreement. Without wine I have been a cantankerous oul harridan to live with. I have shouted at them for leaving their clothes on the floor, for not doing their homework, for not answering their phones.

These are all regular misdemeanours they commit and which I normally overlook.

Not Tee Total Me. Tee

Total Me is cross. And strict. And pernickety. Tee

Total Me is a complete pain in the arse to be honest. Even I don’t like me!

‘What’s wrong with mam?’ asks The Eldest.

‘She’s very cranky.’ ‘She’s doing Dry January’ replies Himself smirking.

The Eldest looks dubious.

‘What? She’s not going to drink for the whole month?? She’ll never do it,’ he says laughing. And that in itself, that doubt and lack of belief in me, would usually be enough to make me carry on just to prove them wrong.

But I was bloody miserable. I’ve never watched Netflix without a glass of wine. Or Walter Presents. Those Scandi thrillers are a hell of a lot more convoluted when you don’t have a glass of wine to help you figure out the plot. Himself stopped talking to me because I was asking too many questions and threatened to unplug everything unless I shut up.

So on Wednesday I admitted defeat. I cooked dinner, cleaned up, put on my pyjamas and defiantly poured a glass of wine. Himself was wearing his smug face. ‘Knew you wouldn’t last.’

‘Knew you would because you’re a competitive git!’ I retorted taking a long slow slug. ‘Are you back on the wine mam’?’ asks The Eldest. ‘I am’ I say defensively, waiting for a lecture about exceeding my units.

‘ Thank God. Normal service can resume!’ The Eldest replies looking relieved.

Indeed it can!

I ADMITTED DEFEAT AND DEFIANTLY POURED A GLASS OF WINE. HIMSELF WAS WEARING HIS SMUG FACE... ‘KNEW YOU WOULDN’T LAST’