It's Christmas – pass the rum!

So, drinking has been on my mind the past few days, which isn’t so surprising because “the facts are these..” (SOB! How could they cancel Pushing Daisies?!): Christmas Vacation starts in just over a week, and that means all the kids will be home, with various of their friends, and it’s ALSO -3 degrees out there right now and a hot toddy sounds REALLY GOOD, and it’s been 3 years, 4 months, 5 days and 16 hours since I last got my drunk on.

No, I’m not in recovery or anything like that, I just don’t go out anymore, and getting drunk alone at home sort of crosses that line from recluse to crazy cat woman a little too easily for my comfort. That’s not to suggest my teenagers haven’t driven me to drink, just that it takes too much effort to actually get gussied up and hit the too expensive bars, or to bundle up in the cold to hit the stores.

Yes. I’m not a drunk because I am THAT lazy. 🙂

Anyway, it likely won’t surprise you that my talks with my kids about drinking and drugs run along the same lines as our sex talks do – irreverent, yet informative, with copious amounts of tequila with a bit of weed on the side. Oh stop, I’m just kidding. About the informative part. (Oh come on, ya’ll know me better then that!)

You see, when I was growing up, I was the absolute epitome of the good girl. (I’ll wait for you to stop laughing. All better? Thanks, mom.) I didn’t drink or smoke – anything – at all while I was growing up and through high school. I think a lot of that had to do with my Dad’s attitude about it – if I wanted to try a beer, ask him and he’d let me. Same with a glass of wine. As long as it was at home, with my parents in attendance. I tell you, there’s no better way to curtail someone’s desire for a bad habit so much as hearing “Sure, you can have a beer. Sit there next to your mom.” from your parents. As if I weren’t ‘uncool’ enough, drinking with my PARENTS?! Yeah. That wouldn’t help at ALL. So I didn’t. I never even really felt the urge to, either. It just seemed like too much bother.

That’s not to say that I didn’t drink before I was of legal age – I did. AFTER I moved out, and ALWAYS with the knowledge that if I couldn’t drive, or the people I was with couldn’t drive, I could call my dad and he’d come get me. Sure, he wouldn’t be exactly HAPPY about getting up at o’God-thirty to come find me, but that option was always there. Just as it is for my kids. And their friends. (Like the one I picked up this morning because she was going to walk in -3 degree weather, without a coat, with high heels. INORITE? Another story, another time.) I drank a bit, then stopped when I had kids, and I tried weed the first time when I was 31 years old.

Yes. Thirty-One.

So I knew what it takes to resist the peer pressure, and how to find those friends that won’t pressure at all. (Honestly? Hang with the stoners. They don’t care if YOU don’t indulge, as long as you don’t care if they DO.) That’s the same hope I had with my own kids – that I could raise them to feel the same way about it all as I did. Moderation, careful consideration, and for goddsake leave mom’s stash alone! (..ahem.)

When it came time to talk to my kids about drinking and drugs – though to be honest I don’t remember a specific conversation, it as just something always there and openly discussed – My husband and I took the same route. If you want to try something bad enough, ask us. Now, my kids, being the stubborn little brats that they are, DID ask. One sniff of tequila and it never made it to their lips. A little taste of beer was enough to wrinkle the nose and have me laughing at the looks on their faces, since I don’t like beer either. They never asked after that, and they haven’t even considered doing anything else, either. Trust me – I can smell pot a mile away, on someone who was simply in the next apartment building over, getting it 4th hand. I know.

When my husband died, we had a good old fashioned Irish Wake, complete with a keg, many bottles of many things, and probably (ok, most certainly) some fine Alaskan weed too. I didn’t monitor the boy and his friend, both of whom were 13 at the time. Well, I was watching them, but I didn’t count the sips they were most assuredly stealing from the keg, or the fact that my Strawberry Jack Daniels always had a couple swallows missing when it got to me. I watched them, and made sure they were safe, but I didn’t stop them. It was an Irish Wake. It was a time to mourn and celebrate Dad, in a way that would make him proud. We had MANY people at the campsite who were sober and taking care of us all, so it was a safe environment.

And the boys’ hangovers the next day? TOTALLY worth it. Even if they STILL deny they had that much to drink. Liars. 🙂

On the way home, after I’d made sure to bang a couple things real loud, accidentally of course, we had a talk. And we made a deal. After they realized I wasn’t angry that they were swiping, both boys opened up and we had a frank discussion about it, and why I allowed it that night – and then we hammered out the terms of our deal. They had their taste, they had their fun. If they steered completely clear of alcohol (and weed was certainly implied – though not specified.) until they were 21, I would find a way to take them to Vegas to celebrate their birthday in style – no chaperoning, just me along to pour them into their beds at dawn, and make sure they didn’t do something totally stupid. And to take many blackmail pictures, of course. Both boys thought this was a FANTASTIC idea, and the bargain was struck.

A bargain they’ve both kept, 100% to this day. In fact, when they ask if they can have a sip of my girly beer, I hand them the bottle. “Go ahead. It’ll save me money in the long run.” They always hand it back, that damning sip un-taken. The boy wants to go to Vegas. And I will be more the pleased to pony up the dough to take them there.

I guess my point is – don’t be afraid to talk with your kids before it’s too late. If you are open and honest and NOT damning them for even considering it, they’ll react rationally, and probably surprise you. Dare to be open with you kids, dare to be different and find a tactic that works for you both. Most of all – TALK TO THEM. I’ve said it a million times, and it’s still my number one go to rule for surviving teenagerhood. TALK TO THEM. You might be surprised what you find out, and I know for a fact, you won’t be sorry you took the time.