I remember when I was younger, perhaps high school, but probably earlier -- my dad was telling stories about my Grandfather. Most of my dad's stories were really great -- most of them involved sports, the cabin in Nebraska, or my mom, or a beautiful combination of the three. See, my dad's mom died when he was 17 (August 21, 1961) -- well, he was ONE big month into his 17th year. My dad was raised by my grandfather (and the neighborhood of family and friends. It wasn't a conventional household at all (his two sisters were out of the house and his little brother was rumored to be down in the basement playing basketball for years, I think. HA) His dad never did remarry -- but from what I heard he was quite the ladies man. He loved to entertain -- loved the finer things in life. He lived high on the hog when the construction years were booming and continued to live high on the hog even when it didn't. Anyway, this particular story turned into how hard on my dad his dad was. It turns out my grandfather was a drinker and would occasionally take things a bit too far. It's all foggy now -- I wonder if it's cause my dad just didn't want to go into it or if it just didn't really bug him anymore (time and death really can heal wounds -- but I remember stories of my Grandpa showing up well intoxicated to my dad's games...there was at least one incidence where he stomped on the field or the court and yelled at the referees or at the opposing players. At the time, I took it lightly. There *is* something funny about my grandfather being so animated about my dad's sports that he would do such a thing. I also remember stories about my grandfather being so mad at my dad that he would chase him around the house -- the dining room table, to be exact. My dad said he would just run and run until my grandfather passed out.

Alcohol....it really is a staple in my family. When Justin and I had to take some alcohol classes this past year, it became so clear to me. "What do you do when you are not drinking?" We literally couldn't think of anything other than "work" or "school." Every family event we have involves alcohol -- and I'm talking events from football games to baby's baptisms! Hell, even at my own wedding, our Priest came out while we were still taking pictures in the church and said he hadn't blessed the church wine yet -- and we all passed the bottle. Weird? Maybe for you -- not for us. My sister use to always joke that she thought her middle name was "Schlitz" as in "Kelly!? Schlitz" and we always thought it was comical that dad couldn't drive from Scottsdale to Gilbert without packing a cooler.

Throughout my adult life there have been several times I have questioned my drinking habits -- not so much the quantity of one sitting -- but the quality. Mostly, it stemmed from a health perspective -- trying to lose weight or, more so lately, a money issue. I drank a lot with Joel. I drank more at that time in my life than ever before. We drank nightly. Then post divorce, it just seemed to make sense. I didn't have the boys with me on certain nights so it was like a free babysitter pass to go out and drink. I was bad. I was also extremely depressed and KNEW that my drinking was simply to escape. I wanted away so desperately that I would drink to get to a place where I really could figure out -- and hopefully be successful at -- how to get out of this world. My father had died, I was getting a divorce, I got fired from a job that I really was forced to get (since the divorce and Joel was withholding money), Joel told me he was dating one of my best friends, I was broke, having horrible panic attacks daily and it felt I'd lost everyone I cared about. I don't expect you to understand. I don't either. I ended up calling my sister and with her help (and Justin, too) I checked myself into a facility. I clearly was having a nervous breakdown. I took the steps and I got myself healthy again.

Well, this past weekend the boys went to their dad's again. I've been feeling an intense amount of stress. I'm working full time, going to school full time, loving on my children as much as I can, recently being diagnosed with skin cancer, trying to be a good fiance, sister, daughter and friend -- but yet, I'm out of money and time. Joel hasn't paid child support since September. I have absolutely zero money. So, when the opportunity came up to go out with some friends and have some "free drinks" I jumped at the chance. I ended up drinking too much and showed up to my oldest son's football game clearly not in the condition I should have been. It blows me away -- to think of it. I'm not sure what happened. I hadn't had that much to drink -- but am pretty sure that it was just a reaction with the new medications I was taking, but regardless of why -- I drank -- in the middle of the day knowing that I was going to my son's football game (be assured I wasn't driving!). I embarrassed myself. I ended up leaving early because I could tell that I embarrassed my family that was there and present (my sister, brother and mom all were there). I don't know how much my children really understood, but I left.

Well, suffice to say, it's hit me like a ton of bricks and I haven't drank since -- don't have any plans TO drink either. I even went to an AA meeting. I am not going to be grandiose and say "I'll never have another drink" and I really do not believe I have an addiction to alcohol. But what I will say, is that I don't ever want my children to have any stories of their mother showing up intoxicated to any sports events. Nor do I want them to have any stories of their mother acting differently, getting in trouble with the law, injuring herself while intoxicated, or the like -- EVER. Therefore, I will never do those things. Period. End of story.

I love those two boys more than my life itself....and someday this roller coaster is going to slow down -- I'll graduate from nursing school -- I'll have a job I love -- I pray the cancer is removed -- money issues will improve and life will get better and brighter. There is nothing in this world stopping me from proving to my children that THEY are my priority. They were while they were in my belly -- and they will be for many many years to come. I have to do this for them, and for me -- I want them to have a positive role model. I want them to see someone who was down and out and rose from the ashes -- became a nurse, through the struggle and was able to provide a great life for her kids full of love and kisses and fun (the only table we will run around will be to tickle and kiss them into fits of laughter....)

And...I learn. Live and learn.

One Step At A Time.