Happy hour? Not on tap in this house

Apparently, summer vacation added to the usual joys of motherhood is driving some fine ladies to drink. My kids never need to worry that their elegant and mature mother will ever take to the bottle since my 14-year-old, long before she entered the impressionable stage of teenhood, had determined that I, and she, will never be the life of the party.

While still in elementary school, my oldest child had well imbibed the doctrines of a group called DARE — Drug Abuse Resistance Education. The highly acclaimed substance abuse prevention education program, according to the group’s website, “gives kids the skills they need to avoid involvement in drugs, gangs, and violence” (and alcohol). I proudly witnessed my child, then a mere 9-, or 10-year-old, at the DARE ceremony at her school, place her hand on her heart and pledge never to involve herself in activities that would harm her body, mind or soul, and bring shame on her household.

Little did I know that the pledge applied to her mother, too.

Now, in our family, we’ve always been under the Prohibition. Given our austere, traditional cultural and religious upbringing, we’ve been under a long, dry spell. (No Lindsay Lohan-style issues here yet.). But I discovered that my child had taken a vow of abstinence for me as well during a wine-tasting trip in Amish country in Pennsylvania two years ago. As I prepared to raise my glass to appreciate the bouquet and full body of whatever wines I was supposed to sample — heck, I’m still bitter about it — my sweet child had the clarity of mind to burst into tears. Her message to me was champagne clear: I was doomed to be a teetotaler.

I am of a legal drinking age but since I was determined to act mature and not brew any trouble in the house, I decided to become an addict of another sort to survive these heady, tension-filled motherhood years. So, I’ve mostly been under the influence of java beans.

I can’t benefit from a drink or two that some studies say could benefit my health, but fortunately for me, I have some sobering news. A study published last week says beetroot juice can lower blood pressure levels. “The research,” according to hindustantimes.com, “is a welcome news for people with high BP as they can now use a 'natural' approach to reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease (including stroke and heart attacks) - the world's biggest killer.” Now, I can drink to that! Raising three kids, without the benefit of alcohol, keeps my blood pressure boiling most of the time. But I don’t want to fall victim to any cardiovascular disease. So, beetroot juice is the perfect drink for me. It’s natural, fresh and deceptively wine-like in its robust coloring — and, most importantly, palatable to my teen’s sensibilities.

Living a teetotaler’s life these many years has taken its toll. So, please pour me a glass of beetroot juice. But, could you please make mine spicy?