Mother's Little Helper

Many of us moms have our poison. No secret there!

A good friend of mine—it's a friend, it's not me— has little cigarette cases of pot stashed all over her house. Yet another formed a private, moms-only stoner yoga group. Other moms become masters of entertaining so they can regularly imbibe. Some don't even bother with the entertaining bit.

These are all great options, but in my opinion, nothing beats a Claritin high.

The active ingredients are loratadine and pseudoephedrine. I'm not sure if it's just the pseudoephedrine that makes it like over-the-counter speed, or if it's the one-two combo.

All I can say is, that is some good shit. And it's legal! And you can be on it all day and no one will notice!

I can focus, stay on-task. Gone is the semi-depression, the feelings of being overwhelmed by menial tasks, for not doing more with my life, for allowing myself to sink into an endless spiral of laundry, dishes, and groceries. Gone is the guilt when I ignore my kids in favor of doing chores.

On Claritin, stuff gets done.

In my normal state of mind, I often set a timer to do tasks so I don't get sidetracked. Yes, it is that bad. Fifteen minutes, say, to do the dishes and wipe the counter tops.

But then the inevitable distractions pile up—kids, chocolate, really important Facebook updates from my hilarious friends. Suddenly it's half an hour later, my timer went off long ago, and in the sink is a cold, murky pool filled with dishes.

With Claritin, I ignore all distractions, zip through the dishes in the target time or less, scrub the sink until it shines, wipe down counter tops, and suddenly know what to do with all the kitchen flotsam—plastic lids with no bottoms, jars with no lids, tiny bits of Playmobil—that can migrate around the kitchen for weeks. Garbage! All of it!

The meds are so helpful that I once asked my doctor if I could be on them permanently.

“You know, all year?” I said. “Even when I don't have allergies. They just make me feel...normal.”

She scrutinized me for a moment. It looked like she might push a big, red panic button under her desk.

“Nooo,” she finally said, using a tone fit for small children, dogs and the mentally unstable. “You really can't do that.”

Allergy season is waning now for me. It was about a week ago that I last took Claritin. Extra-Strength Non-Drowsy plus two espressos. I was pushing the margin. Feeling a little intense. Sweating a lot.

It's a bit of a blur now but I know what I accomplished from what the place looked like later that day. Closet cleared. Old bills shredded. Kitchen spotless. I killed it.

“Did the cleaning lady come?” asked my eldest when she came home from school later that day. We haven't had a cleaning lady in two years.

“No honey,” I said. “Mommy did it!”

She eyed me suspiciously, and went on her way.