The kids are in bed and the house is quiet. Usually this would be the ideal time for some wine. That “pop” of refreshment and the sound of the red liquid gracing my glass and hitting my lips. Tonight, though, it’s licorice tea that warms me up in the New England winter.

Years ago in the midst of my drunken haze, I stumbled upon the word teetotaler meaning a person who doesn’t drink. I used to think it was weird not to drink. I used to think drinking made me powerful. It most certainly made me fearless. Tonight I embrace this title.

I’ve disconnected from the seas of mommy blogs on Facebook that celebrate the “mommy juice” and glamorize that glass of wine. It’s fine for those who can control it, but for me? I have no control over it. Sorry, Bota box, but my money is going to be spent somewhere else.

I love the quote that came with my tea tonight. Happiness is an art. It’s there. I’m feeling so much better tonight than I was this morning as I balled over self-pity and anger. How did I get here? How will I deal with life without my friend Merlot? What will I do?? Tonight, however, there is calm in knowing that I will do what’s necessary to find true happiness.

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