Memorable Mama: Warning: May Cause Drowsiness

It's early Easter afternoon. We arrive at NaNa's with a flurry of food, kids and sweet treats. The sun is shining. The world is filled with the promise of a new day, a resurrected day.

Me? I had a very bad spring cold.

"Warning: May Cause Drowsiness" the cold medicine package read. I didn't bother to check, as I was so miserable and snotty and hurting and needing some kind of relief. It's hard to be friendly and 'family'ish' when you feel like your head is going to pop off.

If a medicine is going to make one hyper or sleepy I am that one. I should have known. I should have braced myself.

Awhile later, after sampling some western Pennsylvania holiday goodness, I was ready for a beverage. It should have been juice. It should have been milk. It should have been anything other than what I really drank. It was a margarita. Normally, margarita mixes are weak and more fruity than 'festive'. Normally. However, this is a mother-in-law margarita mix with a little extra 'something'. That something was extra tequila. Lots of extra tequila. Because of the cold, I couldn't really taste the drink, or anything else for that matter. Soon I was not only unable to taste anything, I was unable to feel anything.

My first clue should have been when I was really, really, really interested in the Masters golf tournament. I was into it, baby. I even had pithy comments (or so I thought) about the players and the shots. I was on a roll! (I don't like golf and have never watched it for longer than five minutes.) But today, golf was better than gold!

My second clue should have been the effort it took to walk the three steps from the couch to the recliner. It was so far. It took so long. It was e-x-h-a-u-s-t-i-n-g.

The final clue, that my family Easter celebration was about to go very wrong, was saying aloud, very loud, how much I needed to take a little rest. For three hours. Mouth agape. Snoring. Sweating. And according to my husband, smiling.

I awoke. Decongested and refreshed to rejoin the party as if nothing happened. Because to my drug and alcohol marinated brain, nothing did happen. In fact, I thought I had only slept a minute or two. I couldn't understand the odd looks or the whispered comments. I just chalked it up to 'family weirdness'. It was a holiday after all, and it ain't a holiday until someone gets angry or gossips.

On the way home, it hit me. In the darkness of the car, a memory flashed. Here's how the conversation went.

"Honey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did I really get drunk and drugged and pass out in the livingroom?"

"Yep."

"Dear God! Please tell me I didn't snore. Just tell me I didn't snore!"

"Okay, you didn't snore. (snicker)"

"I snored."

"You snored."

Groan.

So now I am 'that' relative. You know, the one with a story about 'that' time. There is no recovery. There is no making it better. It is what it is.

Nothing celebrates the resurrection of our Lord better than a drunken stupor.