Double Trouble: Time to Kick One Back...

It has happened to every single one of us at some point in time. No one is above it. I am talking about the time you drank so much that you passed out.

It was probably a little embarrassing. People may have laughed at you, and you may have woken up with some dribble on your chin. You might vomit a little. If it was really bad, you may have urinated and defecated in your pants. And, more than likely, a family member or a friend was watching over you to make sure you were all right no matter how bad you smelled.

For some of the readers, this happens on weekly basis. And, for them, I am a little concerned. But, in a slurred voice they would mumble something about being fine and not needing my pity. For other readers, it is a once a month type of thing. They are a little more controlled and let loose once in a while. Still, there are others who let it happen a few times a year: his/her birthday, 4th of July, Memorial Day, New Year's Eve, and the occasional football game. And, lastly, there are those of us who had a problem for a couple years, but ultimately we overcame it.

Now, some readers are probably thinking..."oh, my gosh, Justin used to have a drinking problem." I did. Again, at one point, all of us did. So, there is no need to judge me here.

In the beginning, I drank when I was in need of comfort. The bottle was my friend. It was a welcomed companion. I would belly up to the bar and have a drink. A lot of times, it would stop the tears from falling or the screams from piercing the airways. It was a rough time. I was young and immature and really didn't know any better.

Eventually, I kicked my drinking problem. The AA meetings helped. I moved on from the bottle. I passed out less often as I moved away from the harsh stuff. I found myself with more energy. And, although the "Jack Sparrow" walk became more prevalent, I was happy with my juice. The sippy cup became my new friend.

With the help of my sponsor and my friends in the nursery, I overcame the problem. Bobby, Sally, Alli, and Smitty were there for me every crawl, stumble, and step of the way. And, while we still found ourselves urinating and defecating in our pants, a little after my first birthday, I kicked the drinking habit. The bottle was never in my mouth again, and the comas stopped. Like I said, we all had a drinking problem once...

Right now, my boys suffer from the drinking problem. It may be genetic. I feel like I pushed it on them. They are following in my ways. Like their dad, they love themselves some formula, and they have withdraws if they don't get it every couple hours. Like little mini drug addicts, all hell breaks loose when they do not get their fix.

I feel bad enabling them. Their addiction is a problem, and I support it. After all, I know how hard it is to overcome this addiction, so I just let them continue on. Does that make me a bad father? Don't answer that...

These little guys can drink with the best of them. They put the formula down like it is no body's business. I shouldn't be proud of their drinking problems, but I am.

As they put it down their little eyes roll back in their heads and they smack their lips with approval. They chug like crazy. Like little junkies finally getting their fix, an overwhelming calm overcomes my boys after the bottles are emptied.

And they empty a lot of them...

I am known as the "KING OF THE BREW". My motto is "When they scream for a fix, I begin to mix". Painstakingly, I blend specially hand-crafted bottles of flavor. My menu has included:

The Stinky Soy

The Spit-Up Express

The Fussy Tummy Finalizer

The Shaken Not Stirred

The Ev'ry Day

The All Shook Up

The Moonlight Zombie

And Many More...

On the streets, they call the trance one goes into after one of my specialty brews as the "MILK COMA". The ecstasy of the "MILK COMA" is known to put these little dudes out for quite some time.

We usually begin like this (clothes optional)...