America does not like people drinking with babies. That is my recent discovery. My last foray into Northern Virginia included taking Baby M. and her mom (M.) to a Mexican restaurant for margaritas. Well, I mean Baby M drank milk because she is like six weeks old, but M. deserved some margaritas. She just had a baby.
And YES, before La Leche league tracks me down and starts beating me with socks filled with bars of soap, blah blah blah milk was pumped prior to drinking yada yada yada precautions were taken.
Our waiter, who had to be like seventeen, kept giving us the evil eye. I was the DD, so I made sure I was under the legal limit. M. did not, because she didn't need too. And, oh kind sirs, Brian or Greg or Cody (his generic name escapes me now) gave us the judging eye. He, snotty teenager, giving us, accomplished upper-twentysomethings, the judging eye. What does he know about having a baby? Did he push a baby through his cervix? Doubtful. Did he stay up all night while the baby screamed and ate and then soiled herself and then ate some more? I think he didn’t. Are his nipples raw and cracked because this lecherous creature pulls it’s very life from his chest? Definitively not. A thousand times no.
Brian is young and stupid, so possibly excusable, but everyone was jumping on the silent-judgment bandwagon.
Old women walking by: the judging eye. Young couple seated behind and to the left: judging eye. Bus boy: the judging eye. Set of parents with one year old baby: glasses raised in a toast. They understand. The hostess? Oh, judging eye, my friends. Where am I going with this? No where. I doubt it’s a great thing to get plastered all the time when you have a baby- for mother or child. But women with children are still adult people, so quit staring at them when they do adult people things, like buy books or vodka or go to movies or buy porn. They do not quit being people when they have a kid. They don’t have to stay at home and do needlepoint and prepare home remedies to be good parents. And sometimes they will do adult people things while still caring for their children in a highly competent manner.
So shut your pie hole, judging eyes.
3 comments:
Maybe I was too drunk to notice, but I thought they were more horrified by the incredible amount of food I was able to put away. Record breaking stomach capacity!
I was awakened by a phone call late the other night, and I couldn't quite understand what he was saying through all the loud sobbing on the other end of the line. I was half asleep, so I was, like, "Jesus! Will you please pull yourself together? I can't understand a thing you're saying!"
He finally calmed down enough for me to understand him, and it would appear that you made Jesus cry by drinking with babies, you shameless sinner.
I think you owe Jesus an apology.
And maybe a cookie. Jesus loves cookies.
I went drinking with a baby once. I taught it fetch me bar snacks and blow out the flame on my sambuca. Shame I forgot to take it with me when I left. I rang the bar the next day but they said no one had handed one in. It's probably fine.
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