I got sober, but my husband still drinks. This is what we tell our kids.

I quit drinking when I was 26, when my firstborn was 18 months old, but before I got pregnant with my second child. 

I wasn’t drinking every day, but every time I started drinking, I couldn’t stop. Hangovers would leave me crushed with nausea and anxiety for days at a time, until the next failed attempt to moderate. There was no rock bottom or arrest, no DUI or ruined relationship that signaled the need to quit. It was a personal choice I made, based on how my relationship with alcohol was affecting me and my mental health. Eventually, it be came clear that alcohol no longer deserved a place in my life. 

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My kids have never seen me drunk or hungover. My oldest was too young to remember what it looked like for me to fail horribly at moderation, commit to sobriety and then fail again, then learn how to be sober. They only know me as their mother who doesn’t drink alcohol. 

My husband is a “normal” drinker, which is to say that he is able to drink without it having an overwhelmingly negative effect on his mental health. He was supportive when I told him of my decision to quit.

Still, when I quit drinking, we had to navigate some changes in our relationship. First of all, if I wasn’t drinking anymore, what in the world were we supposed to do on date night? We met in college and drinking is, quite literally, what we did. Did the beginning of my recovery signal the end of our marriage? Once we were able to confirm that it didn’t, we had honest conversations around what I needed from him as a partner to feel secure and respected in my sobriety.

I never expected my husband to quit with me, and I’m pretty sure he never even entertained the idea that he might. My husband continuing to drink was never triggering for me. We set up a few boundaries regarding alcohol in the house (no signage on the walls, no glassware in the kitchen, move it to the garage) and got on the same page regarding how alcohol and sobriety would be discussed in our home, and with our kids, who are now 5 and 2.5.

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Because my husband still drinks regularly, we acknowledge alcohol in our house without villainizing it. My kids know they can always drink out of my water bottle or have a sip of my cran & seltzer at the pool, but their dad’s drink might not always be fair game. 

“Daddy’s drink has alcohol in it,” I tell them. We also talk openly and honestly about why there isn’t alcohol in my drink. “Mommy doesn’t drink anymore because it’s not good for her.”  

Over three years of trial and error, we’ve found these boundaries to be the most helpful for me & my sobriety, the most impactful in our family, and hopefully the most beneficial for our children.

First, we don’t advertise alcohol. The very first thing I did when I quit drinking was remove any beer, wine, whiskey or shot glasses from the kitchen cabinets and take down my wine-themed decor. All alcohol-themed decor or knick-knacks (magnets, cups, sig nage, etc.) were taken down. This quickly extended to clothing as well. (The “natural light” onesie we were gifted barely got halfway out the bag before my resolute “No.”) I also had my husband move all the alcohol out of the fridge in the kitchen and into the garage fridge.

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One of the biggest “parenting turn-offs” for me is when I see parents posting pictures or videos of their kids involving alcohol. I’ve seen babies holding beer bottles, and I’ve seen tweens “practicing” beer pong. Since removing myself from alcohol culture, I see this as problematic since in my sober opinion, it normalizes and glamorizes drinking culture as aspirational. Beyond not taking pictures of the kids with alcohol in them, we also put down our own drinks (NA or not) when we take pictures without the kids.

Last summer we were at the lake with some family. It was the classic lake-day-with-kids setup – a semicircle of chairs, coolers stuffed with water, juice boxes, snacks, and drinks (both alcoholic and NA), and an explosion of sand toys in the middle. My husband asked his mother to get him a beer out of the cooler. She pulled out a can and asked my 2-year-old to “hand this to your daddy, please.” 

My husband held our family boundary on my behalf when he quickly said “No need to involve her,” and reached across the circle to take the beer can from his mom himself. 

We are mindful of how we talk about drinking.  For instance, beer is beer, not “daddy juice.” Last year, a neighbor referred to a High Noon as “juice” to my son. I shook my head, and said, “It’s beer.” (I know a High Noon is technically vodka, not beer. But to my 5-year-old, any alcohol is “beer.” And it definitely isn’t juice.)

At dinner that night, I explained that some adults think it’s fun or silly to call beer “adult juice.” He couldn’t understand ― and quite frankly, neither can I ―  why another mom would say something was juice (something he can have) if it was beer (something he can’t).

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I was lucky to not be exposed to problematic drinking behavior or obvious alcoholism growing up. But alcohol and drinking culture was the norm. Both my parents drank; there was always beer in the fridge for dad and wine in the cabinet for mom. My developing mind concluded that drinking alcohol is standard for adults.

It does the kids no good for us to ignore alcohol, but it would also do them no good – and it would be a disservice to my own sobriety –  if we approached alcohol with the same nonchalant attitude that I witnessed when I was younger. 

My husband and I try to be aware of how we (and others) talk about alcohol as a coping mechanism or a treat. “I need a drink” has turned into “I would like to have a drink.” Alcohol isn’t something “for adults,” but rather something you have to be an adult to do.

We don’t allow alcohol to affect our plans as a family. The whole family should not be waiting on my husband to finish a drink at a restaurant or pour a drink at home. Our children should not feel like they are waiting on adults to get settled with a drink before they can be tended to. 

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Hangovers, infrequent as they may be, also don’t affect our plans. My husband is well aware of the expectation that we have a full day, no matter what time he went to bed the night before. This seems to mostly be motivation enough not to drink himself into a hangover. 

We are honest with our kids about the ways alcohol affects our bodies. When my kids ask why I don’t drink if daddy does, I often say, “I used to, but it made my heart hurt.” I didn’t identify as an alcoholic before I quit drinking, so I didn’t find it helpful to say I had an illness or that my body works differently. 

In sobriety, I’ve begun to identify as an addict, which I will explain to my kids when they’re older. When it is age appropriate, I will explain that I had no “off-switch” with alcohol. This led me to experience an all-consuming anxiety and guilt each time I drank.

Beyond my body’s personal reaction to alcohol, we are open with our kids about the fact that alcohol is a drug. It is not healthy nor a “good” thing to do, but many adults still choose to drink it. It is, mostly, a personal choice.

My goal with this approach is not to convince my children that they should or should not drink alcohol. My goal is to give them the education, the self-confidence and the critical thinking skills to make the decision they know will be best for themselves. 

Yes, alcohol is bad for you. But drinking alcohol doesn’t make you a bad person. Many people drink alcohol, but that doesn’t warrant the celebration it often gets in homes across the nation. Growing up steeped in drinking culture ― even the normalization of alcohol – can make it difficult to see through the fog. I just want my kids to grow up and know there is another option, because their mom showed them. 

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