by Panjee Singleton
Tonight’s cocktail is a stiff gin martini, extra dirty, which is less intimidating than it sounds. It consists of two parts gin, one part dry vermouth, and half part olive brine. Stir with ice for longer than you think, then pour into a glass. Garnish with three olives for good luck. There’s a cocktail for every occasion. Anniversaries? French 75. Fever? Hot Toddy. Day drinking? Coffee negroni. Writing? A stiff gin martini, extra dirty. The only occasion I couldn’t think of a cocktail was finding out I was pregnant.
That realization hit me in the ER at Makati Med. The doctor, who also happened to be one of our regulars at the bar, told me that the
reason I was having trouble breathing was because of heartburn—and a baby in my uterus. The heartburn wasn’t much of a surprise after
drinking until 5 AM that day with industry friends. The baby? A surprise. I guess the only cocktail for this occasion is one mixed with a
strong serving of shock, excitement, fear, and—you get the point.
Fast forward nine months and the baby is born. His name is Bentley, as most of you may know. Everyone talks about sobriety during
pregnancy, but nobody mentions how you can’t immediately dive back into drinking, guilt-free, right after giving birth. Alcohol, I learned,
can affect your breastfeeding supply if that’s something you want to prioritize—and it was for me. Deciding on my first postpartum drink
wasn’t easy, but I finally landed on an Engkanto Ube Lager. Beer is supposedly good for your supply (or so they say). Honestly, I just
needed a drink that didn’t make me feel too guilty.
And that’s a feeling I had to wrestle with time and time again during this new stage of my life: guilt. I started as a wife to Michael and
a mother to our dogs, Cooper and Luna. But now, I have to add that I’m a breastfeeding mom, a bar owner, and someone who does CrossFit.
It’s like a trifecta of things you don’t expect from the same person—but here I am. And I didn’t want to let go of any of them.
So what did Michael and I do? We brought Bentley everywhere. Starting at about five months, we had coffee at Ethos every morning after
breakfast. We did it so often that my coffee cup and loyalty card were named after him. We also brought Bentley to our bar when I had to
work there. Sometimes, we even brought him to other bars when visiting friends or trying drinks elsewhere (always with the bar’s consent,
of course). Bentley has since been dubbed “the youngest bar fly in town.” His cocktail bar count? Eight.
Bentley’s “bar fly” reputation isn’t just a funny quirk of our life—it’s a reminder of how I’ve redefined what balance looks like for me.
Before becoming a mom, I thought motherhood would mean giving up certain parts of myself. I imagined that loving my child would come at the
expense of the things that made me feel alive: late nights crafting cocktails, early mornings at CrossFit, and the creative pulse of the
bar Michael and I have built together.
But here’s the thing—Bentley didn’t take away my identity; he made me expand it. Motherhood is a lot like my favorite martini: it’s an
unexpected blend of things you wouldn’t think could work together. It’s two parts love, one part exhaustion, and a splash of chaos—but when
you stir it long enough, it all comes together.
Some days, I feel like I’ve nailed the recipe—whether it’s bringing Bentley to the bar, hitting a personal record at CrossFit, or finding
joy in my work. On other days, the ratios feel off, and I must remind myself that balance isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding joy in
the stirring, the experimenting, and the process of creating something uniquely your own.
At the end of the day, I’ve learned this: balance isn’t about keeping everything perfectly in place—it’s about letting the pieces shift,
adapt, and blend together in their own way. Whether Bentley is stealing hearts at the bar, finding his footing during open gym at Ethos, or
learning to be gentle with Cooper and Luna, I’m reminded that this wonderfully messy, perfectly imperfect life is uniquely ours.
So tonight, as I raise my gin martini—extra dirty, of course—I toast to Bentley, to Michael, to Cooper and Luna, to motherhood, and to the
joy of creating a life that’s entirely our own.
