Four years ago I had the most adorable baby girl in the whole world. She slept and I would look at her and think, “I can’t believe I created this perfect person” then she would wake up and cry. And cry. And cry. It didn’t end. We paced, we rocked, we sang, we saw doctors and lactation consultants, we did everything and ended up with some reflux medicine and patience. Then I had some wine. Three years ago I had a pretty awesome toddler that was incredibly smart. She also would scream and cry if naps were missed or our day veered off the normal track. One day of fun meant the next day was hell, so I had some wine. Two years ago I had two year old and a newborn. I had some wine. One year ago I had a toddler boy that was learning to walk and climb and three year old that would have upwards of a dozen temper tantrums a day, for various reasons. I had some a lot of wine. Now I have a four year old that has been labeled as a “master manipulator” by more than one mental or otherwise health professional and a two year old that we like to refer to as “the wild card”. So I have some wine. Sometimes it’s after the kids go to bed, sometimes it’s at 11 am, and sometimes is just to keep me from letting my inner Walmart mom out.