Belly Up

Last night, hubby had a networking function to attend, so it was me and baby girl all day and evening. Knowing that I was dangerously low on vodka (perhaps enough for one measly 16 oz. drink), I decided to expose our 1-year-old to her first liquor store.

Thus far, my only beef with the state of TN is that to buy liquor, you have to go to a state-run liquor store. No big deal, right? Wrong wrong wrong. They are few and far between, so every time I see one, I excitedly exclaim, “THERE’S A LIQUOR STORE, NOTE TO SELF!!!” I am mortified it’s come to this, but whatever. Beer can be procured at any grocery store, and there are a host of supposed discount beer and cigarette stores all over.

So, baby girl and I drive the 20 mile roundtrip so mommy can procure a gallon of raspberry vodka (I never claimed to have discerning tastes). As we walk in the door, I ask the cashier if I can bring the baby in since there’s a sign on the door that states no one under 21 can enter. Indeed, the baby can accompany me. She’s in her stroller, fascinated by the ceiling lights, while mommy proceeds to select not one gallon of vodka, but two. I hate running out and knowing I have to make such a long trip, alright? In addition to my favored raspberry (delicious when mixed with Diet Coke, I might add), I picked up some orange vodka. It’s practically health food.

We cruise up to the register, and the cashier asks if I need any help out with my purchase. I respond, “No, I’ll just put it in the stroller next to my Mother of the Year award.” She laughed, I laughed, the baby has more therapy fodder.

By the way, the orange vodka mixes nicely with the aforementioned Diet Coke.