Guest blogger Dani Klein Modisett: The other rainy December morning I loaded Gideon, my 16-month-old, in the car to take him to music class. When we got back home at 10:15 (AM) there was a puddle on the bedroom floor from a roof leak, the dishwasher was broken, and my babysitter called in sick.

Bloody Mary's anyone?

This series of mishaps made me consider exactly how early is too early for a cocktail? Some days a Screwdriver with the morning bowl of oatmeal would go a long way in easing the stress of what lay ahead for the day.

I love alcohol.  I love how it makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over.  A glass or two of Cabernet has the same effect on my nerves as smoothing out shards of chocolate in a heated saucepan.  What better way to face a day full of chunks of life than by having a brain that has been reduced to fondue sauce?

Who does it harm really to be a little bit buzzed all day anyway? Especially if you live in an urban area where you take public transportation to pick your child up from school. Or even better, if all you have to do is put the drink the down and walk a block or two to fetch your youngster?

You can see why I no longer have drinking as an option in my life. I stopped when my youngest was a baby -- and as tempted as I am on mornings like the one described earlier and all of the recent four flights I have taken with my baby -- my life works better without it. Sure the buzz was always good, but my natural inclination is that if something's good, than more of it is better, right?

But the biggest reason I sobered up is that I knew I'd never be able to get back those inevitable hung over mornings where my head would be throbbing so much I couldn't get out of bed and I'd curse the sounds of my children laughing.