The two and a half margarita playdate.

When I had my first child, nearly eight years ago, I received so many lovely, precious baby gifts. I was sure to have the nursery in place complete with every unecessary baby item ever brilliantly marketed to new moms (and grandmoms). The diaper pale, wipe warmer, burp pads, pink baby washcloths, baby mitts, baby bath, baby this, baby that, baby baby baby baby baby baby.

Well, one person knew better than to give me one more damn pink blanket (I know that sounds really unappreciative and ungrateful, but just know I really did love all the pink blankets). My best friend, now of 20 years, gave me a book. It is called The Three Martini Playdate. This book has many great, and mostly sarcastic and comical, ways to handle your child's behavior as he gets older. But for the new mom who is now firmly planted on a sofa with a baby's mouth attched to her breast 20 out of the 24 hours each day, just the title of the this book was a blessing.

So, no, I did not arrange playdates for my six-week old with other six-week olds as an excuse to drink three martinis. But nearly eight years and four kids later, I am still grateful for this book. Just as the business man likes to 'go for a beer' with his peers after work, we moms like to 'go for a drink' at one of our peer's homes, only we have to keep working. Now, before you go calling Child Protective Services, please know that we only have two and a half drinks at our 'happy hour' playdates. Three--at a playdate--just sounds almost self-medicating, even though there is no doubt we could use the remedy.

Let's face it though, how is a mother of four who has had minimal adult conversations in the last eight years supposed to stay sane? The way I see it, there are usually two options offered in the advice I'm given when I've had a stressful day managing the antics and voices of kids; take a bath, or take a drink. They both have advantages, and if I could say that I got to be alone in the bath, that might be the better option. But since three (and sometimes four) other little bodies usually cram themselves into the already small ceramic bowl, now full of luke warm water, alone time in the bath generally lasts about as long as a bull rider hangs on for dear life. In fact, I think in those eight quiet seconds before I am discovered in the bathtub, that is exactly what I am doing, hanging on for dear life.

In fact, there is a comical book for new moms called Sippy Cups are NOT for Chardonnay. Despite my sadness for the author's battle with alcoholism, I'm still not sure I agree with the title. There has been many a camping trip where the tall, plastic Minnie Mouse cup housed the perfect margarita.

So, last night, we had one more successful 'Two and a half margarita playdate.' The drinks were delicious, the kids were wild and crazy and, the best part, mostly invisible, as they played and laughed and danced around. We all got to complete our sentences and say really smart words--like grapholagnia and diphallic terata. Okay, so we didn't use these exact words, and if you knew what they meant, you'd believe me, but we did get to laugh at something that only a mother would think was funny. And we got to discuss OUR dreams. Think Sundance Film Festival, no kids. Even though the Festival in the winter, I think the grass might be pretty green there, with a bunch of girlfriends, no kids, and a margarita in hand.

So we love our kids, but it's just too easy for us to lose ourselves. So go find a fun mom, and bottoms up. Cheers!

DISCLAIMER: OF COURSE, we encourage everyone to always drink responsibly, unless you are at home all by yourself, are not supervising children, do not have to use any type of equipment or utensils to cook for your husband, and you've had the kind of day where half your hair turned gray and you almost gave your kids away for good. In that case, have at it.