Shopping

Last week while doing errands with October in her stroller, I headed into the Liquor store. Now we have state run liquor stores here with fairly limited hours, so you should keep your house stocked or you’ll probably be S.O.L. when you want to make a drink. Unless of ‘course it happens to be at 1pm; then you’re in luck, unless its a Sunday. Anyway… I decided to restock our liquor cabinet since mother hubbards cupboards were pretty bare. Since I had October in her stroller I couldn’t also push a cart nor did I think it was appropriate to put the bottles in the stroller with her. So I went and got a bottle of rum and put it on the check-out counter; then I wheeled October over to the vodka and got a bottle and headed back to the check-out counter — at this point the clerk asked if these were mine. I said Yes, but that I was still shopping and didn’t have enough hands. Next we headed to the tequila section (oops now October is awake and crying, since I’ve squeezed in 1 too many errands now) and take the bottle back to the counter with my other bottles. Finally, I head over to the liquore section for a bottle of Amereto. Great! I’ve got rum, voka, tequila, and amereto and ready to checkout. To which October starts crying louder and louder. The clerk asked how I was doing, I say fine and give the weary mom smile that says “oh, just fine, I enjoy pushing a screaming baby around.” Now, what I’m really thinking and wanting to say is “Could drive anoyone to drinking, huh?” I don’t though…. I’m secretly afraid that some stray comment to the wrong person might land me with a visit from social services… I mean isn’t that what happened to Brittney Spears?