There are certain experiences that earn you an invisible parenting badge. Changing your baby?s diaper in a dank, dive-bar basement?no fold-out table, no hand soap, barely any light?qualifies.
My second was eight months old and I?d hit my stride. It was a weekday, in the middle of a heat wave. I had a seat on a patio in the shade with a friend, ice cold pints and a sleeping baby snug and sweaty in my carrier?a mat-leave triumph moment. When he woke happy but wet, we trotted downstairs for a quick change.
As he lay on the filthy concrete floor, with my postage stamp-sized change mat offering hilariously little buffer, he kicked his legs happily and giggled, and I realized: Mommy is buzzed. That one beer, the heat and the good vibes had me giddy. I was still sober enough to do a very efficient job, and also to realize that without that drink, I might never have laid him down here. It?s funny: I was more concerned about that contaminated floor than my lager-laced breastmilk. And, for once, my worry was in the right place?because doctors and experts agree that an occasional drink shouldn?t send breastfeeding moms into a shame spiral.
I?m not the chill-est mom by any stretch. I stressed when my first didn?t walk until 19 months, when she took up thumb-sucking after we ?lost? her soother, that she was wholly uninterested in solid food?basically, I stressed over everything. So striking wine with dinner off my worry list felt as comforting as? a glass of wine with dinner.

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