Please welcome my friend, and fellow Dude Mom, Rita from Fighting Off Frumpy to the Dumb Mom stage today. Hers is a cautionary tale that reminds us that cooking sherry can be as fun as wine when used incorrectly!
When Dumb Mom asked me to write a guest post about a “Dumb Mom moment,” I had a hard time narrowing it down (which in itself is a little alarming). I mean, even as the mother of three boys (with boy #4 due in a couple of weeks), I still feel like a rookie some most of the time, and am constantly second-guessing my parenting skills. Just the other day, I rolled my four-year-old’s fingers up in the car window. I once taught my oldest son – inadvertently, I swear! – a very dirty slang word for male genitalia (he said “bick” which is a nonsense word; I heard the rhyming bad-word version and chewed him out for using it. And then had to explain what it meant when he didn’t know. Oops.) And a few months ago, I didn’t even notice that one of my kids had a strep infection until it targeted his kidneys and made him super-duper ill. So yeah: Dumb Mom moments? My life is full of them.
But my favorite is probably the time I almost got my kids drunk. Mother of the Year right here, y’all.
It happened because I was making French onion soup. And when you cook French, you have to get all fancy and use stuff like wine. Or in this case, cooking sherry – which I had never used before. Seventeen percent alcohol.
Since I myself am a glutton and also have three bottomless-pit boys and a husband to feed, I decided to double the recipe. So logically that meant double the sherry. Right? I mean, the alcohol was supposed to cook away and leave just the flavor. And I’d end up with this (alcohol-free) culinary triumph.
So in went the double portion of cooking sherry.
When it was time to eat, I noticed that the taste was a little strong, but what did I know? Maybe sherry always made stuff taste this way – and it was still yummy. But then? I started to get that “I’m ingesting alcohol” feeling. And then something else hit me.
Oh. My. Gawd. My soup was getting me drunk.
I’m not a big drinker, so when I do get some booze in me, I can feel it like the millisecond it hits my bloodstream. My face starts feeling flushed and my thighs, for whatever reason, start to get warm. And when I got that telltale feeling while sitting at my kitchen table eating dinner, instead of at the bar having a cocktail, it was followed immediately by another feeling: a punch-in-the-gut oh no what have I done?!
I snatched my kids’ bowls of soup away from them faster than Dora can say, “Swiper, no swiping!” The whole time I was thanking my lucky stars that a.) they had been picking on each other instead of eating their food, and b.) that I was practically inhaling my own soup, so I’d had the chance to feel the effects before they did.
I mean, my dudes already act like wild men and trip over things and run around with no pants on. I can’t imagine what they’d be like under the influence of alcohol.
It was an honest mistake. I make them; you make them; I bet June Cleaver and Carol Brady made them too and they just weren’t televised. And you know what? Your mom made them, too, whether she admits it or not … and just look how wonderfully you turned out! Our kids are much more resilient than we give them credit for. A few Dumb Mom slipups now and then aren’t going to land them in therapy (or on the Jerry Springer show) as adults. It’ll just give them a memorable story to laugh at while they change our adult diapers someday. Awwww.
Anyway, my boys ended up eating fish sticks instead of soup that night, and went to bed sober. But since I’m a bona fide over-21 adult, I went ahead and polished off another bowl.
And you better believe I ate the leftovers, too.