Happy hour

So we all have these rules about parenting. One of mine is that I can pour a cocktail when Hubs calls to say he is on his way home. Now I could easily do so beforehand, but then it might be too early and then I might have another. This times the drink to occur right before dinner and helps me chill ever so slightly as the kids are kicking it into high gear aggravation mode. It is a silly little thing I do, something to look forward to when I know my load is about to get lifted. My own little happy hour.

When Hubs is out of town, I usually wait until after the kids are in bed. Not on principle really, it is just that I am usually too busy single parenting to enjoy the imbibing, so I'm better off waiting.

So it is Friday and Hubs has been gone all week. He texts me from the airport, his plane has landed, and whew - my drink is poured. He'll be home soon and I might even crack open another one before he gets here. It has been a really really long week. Really.

We're lucky here in Phoenix because the airport is close by, the traffic is relatively light, and Hub's office is just two miles away. My "rule" works really well, half a cocktail down, and I have a second pair of hands in record time. However in Boston, with the traffic and such, I just might have to alter the rules a little. Otherwise I could knock back an entire bottle before he even steps foot in the house.

Not that I would do that of course.