My family is drowning. Specifically, my kids. I would like to save them, but I fear I am just making the situation worse. Anyway, they haven’t asked for my help but instead continue to want more.
“Mom, can you buy more vitaminwater? I like the peach and berry flavors.”
“Mom, we need some bottled water.”
“Mom, please pick up a case of Mendota.”
Although the coordinates indicate that we live in the Midwest, my kids are so parched that I can’t believe it’s not the desert. How else do I explain their constant need for liquids? It’s either due to climate change or their slow evolution to one day becoming camels. That’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why my kids need so many bottled beverages: Their bodies are in preparation to hold large amounts of liquid for long stretches of time.
Young Woman Looking in the Refrigerator photo via Shutterstock.
I don’t remember needing that much liquid when I was a teenager. We drank water from the tap—gasp!—and Kool-Aid by the buckets. My friend’s family always had Tang on hand, so I thought she was super cool. There was a phase I went through when Diet Rite became my drink of choice, but only because I forced myself to like it. And only if I had gum to pop in my mouth when I was done; I remember the saccharine left a horrible aftertaste. Diet Rite and then Tab and then I was lapping up Big Gulps by the gallons. Mayor Bloomberg could have sent me to jail for my soda pop consumption. But still, when you opened our fridge at home, you found milk and orange juice. That’s it.
Things have definitely changed. A quick peek inside the refrigerator in our garage could have you running for the bathroom. Seeing all that liquid in one place can set the bladder in motion. Bottled water, both small and large because, of course, a good mother stocks varying sizes. Flavored waters, both still and sparkling—even flavors that the kids don’t like. You need a flow chart to keep track of all the possible flavors and varieties. (Staring at the selection at the store, I cease noticing labels and just see a sea of rainbow hues.)
Not to be outdone, the soda pop takes up a fair amount of refrigerator space too: A&W Root Beer, Diet Pepsi, and Coke, even though Mabel gave up soda about two years ago. I call those The Flash Mob Drinks: an emergency stash in case a party suddenly erupts at our house. But of course, Jimbo doesn't like any of those options so he has an entire shelf of different varieties of canned tea.
Lost in the mess are cartons of skim milk, 2% milk, buttermilk, and lactose-free milk. Listen carefully and you might hear a “moo.” There are a few forgotten cans of pineapple juice and a few bottles of beer. If I want to store a platter of food or use the space for anything other than liquid beverages, I’m in trouble.
What really irks me—more than their constant need for refreshment, more than the times I've nearly thrown my back out unloading that stuff from Costco—is how many of the bottles are wasted. I find them opened, partially consumed, sitting all over the house. Perhaps installing a vending machine would solve the problem. A system of pay up or be parched. Or—worse yet—drink the filtered water that is readily available from the fridge’s water and ice dispenser.
My kids had a late start the other day. On the way to school, Mabel asked if we could make a Starbucks run; she really wanted an iced peach green tea. A quick detour and she walked into school, cup in hand, a smile on her face. It may have been the outline of her backpack, but as she walked away, I swore I saw a hump beginning to form on her back.