DH and I are sitting on the couch this past Saturday night, watching a feel-good zombie comedy after the little one had fallen asleep. The phone rings and DH answers. It’s his father. I can hear bits and pieces of his father’s voice on the other end of the phone, but what really grabs me is the loud, angry phrase “She’s DRUNK!”
Here’s the conversation:
FIL: What was in that beer you gave your mother?
DH: What beer?
FIL: That beer! She drank that beer and now she’s SICK!
DH: I didn’t give her that beer, I only told her what brand it was. She bought it with Uncle Jeff.
FIL: She’s throwing up! Do you hear her? She’s DRUNK! DRUNK!!! Does she have alcohol poisoning? What was in that beer?!!
DH: Well, it’s strong beer. How many did she have?
FIL: I don’t know! She’s throwing up. Let me ask her. [Sounds of stomping, and FIL shouting at MIL, asking: “How many did you have? HOW MANY?!” Weak female voice says: “I don’t know, it was Bobby’s beer. I had one and some of another.” *heaves*]
FIL: She had two! TWO BEERS!! Is she sick? What do I do? Could she have alcohol poisoning? What do I DO!?*
DH: [Looking at me] She had two beers?
DH: Tell her to drink some water, take some advil and go to sleep. Did she eat anything today?
FIL: I don’t know.
DH: Well, tell her to eat something, too.
FIL: Should I take her to the emergency room? She’s throwing up!
DH: I’m sure she’ll be fine. Just make sure she drinks some water and takes advil. [Prompting from me] And eats something. And takes, if you have it. Do you want me to come over? [I shake my head no]
FIL: I don’t know. I can’t believe she’s drunk! I think I’m going to take her to the emergency room. Damnit! MOTHERFUCK!
DH: Dad, she’ll be fine, just let her sleep it off. She’ll be okay. Just give her some water. Don’t worry.
FIL: Okay. I’ll talk to you later. [Hangs up]
*After my husband relayed this exchange to me, I told him he should have asked his father “Well, what did you used to do when you were drunk?” As apparently his father is a dry alcoholic who spent a few years drunk when DH was growing up. DH laughed until he cried, but said he couldn’t really say that to his father. No I wouldn’t imagine he could, but it’s still funny to think about.
FYI, my MIL was fine the next day. Did not travel to emergency room. Although we had fun imagining the looks on the nurses faces if he had brought her in.