I gave up my masquerade as a normal human being when I was nine months pregnant. It was early August, hot and humid and I was four centimeters dilated for what felt like forever and still, the Little Dude had no intention of coming out. So I spent those last slow, syrupy days of freedom reading.
Although I didn't know it at the time, The Three Martini Playdate saved me from myself and all of noble intentions when the Little Dude. When one of the grandmas or my husband would encourage me to go out for a walk or a manicure, I'd start to protest but then underlying message of this book would whisper in my ear: in the whole scheme of things, I had a life before this little guy and if I was going to be any good to him (and unless I wanted to raise an aristobrat who treated me like a slave), I had to make myself a priority. No one is ever gonna show up on my doorstep with balloons and a million dollar check for the sacrifices I make to raise the Little Dude. But when I take the time to gave girlfriends over and teach my son that mommy can have her time every now and then, I'll take a martini over some stupid balloons any day.
But the million bucks would be nice.
Where was I? Oh yes, I recommend this book for every mama-to-be because Christie Mellor's style is laugh-out-loud funny, wise and honest. There's no judgemental finger pointing back at you from the pages for not breastfeeding or going all natural or whatever is proclaimed as what all good mothers do. Instead, it's a reminder that parents can grab the wheel back from the hands of their reigning toddler.
With concise chapters, it's also a great read to take to your pedicure, or your lunch break.
Check it out:
