Beer for dinner

Dinner tonight began like this. Peroni for me. Greek yogurt for Liron. Are you judging me? Guess we’re not friends. Did you laugh inside? Cackle? Chuckle? Shrug your shoulders? Feel my pain? We’re friends. You’re my homey. I’m down for you. Fist pump on heart. I told Sasha tonight he’s the Barack to my MIchelle Obama. You feeling’ me?

You know, the very moment I reached for the beer in my fridge I realized a massive shift had occurred. And no, this isn’t the life shift due to me going back to work, hence less time than before to cook scrumptious meals during the day, etc … This feeling I had was acceptance. I pat myself on the back during that brief period of time when I opened the fridge, saw the Peroni, thought “I’ll have that for dinner,” and then reached for and put said bottle in hand.

I was my own personal cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. The internal conversation went like this “Beer! Beer for dinner? Ugh, back to work. Tired. Busy. Do it! Don’t feel bad. It’s OK for a night! Don’t beat yourself the Old Ellen would have. Drinking that beer won’t make you a bad mom. Heck, it doesn’t set a bad example for the three-year old sitting across from you. You deserve it. You go girl. Girls. Why. Not.”

I self-advocated. I supported myself. Go me. I’m busy. I’m doing my best. Some would say I”m doing just fabulously. I am truly my harshest critic, so believe me when I tell you how GREAT it feels to take the pressure off. Perfect is impossible, unattainable, and downright boring.

Love yourself.

Okay, so about 5 minutes later Sasha called. Asked if we had dinner. I told him very nonchalantly … Actually I didn’t care. At All. That we had no dinner.

He picked up food. We had dinner.

But that’s moot. I said it. Moot.

Okay moms, dads, kids. Students. Employees. Human beings. For just a moment do something unlike you. Something safe. Something positively naughty.

Don’t judge yourself.

Did you have fun? Did anyone else notice? Care? Was anyone hurt in the process? My guess is YES, NO, NO, and NO!

Be bad. Be bold! Do it! And tell me about it. You are my hero. Already.

Ps. Wondering what the picture’s all about? It’s me and Anna banana visiting from the Bay Area a couple of years ago. What does it have to do with this post? Not much. EXCEPT Anna banana/Bhadra is the kind of friend you want in your corner. She supports me, and I her. And I know she would join me in a beer, were she not on the opposite coast. So there.

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