Bottoms Up!
I leave work at 4:00pm (summer hours, dontcha know), pick her up at the sitter�s and take her home. She�s already chuckling in the back seat in anticipation of her first real contact with the Holy Breast all day (as opposed to the constant, every-other-hour, contact throughout the night).
We come home and she follows me around, getting more and more anxious, as I collect a pillow, my book and then�..I open the fridge. I reach in. I pull out a beer bottle. Now, she�s making a bizarre whimpering/laughing/whining noise: he Ha he he Ha heee Haaa! I open a drawer to pull out the bottle opener. I pry off the cap. Red�s really in a state now, beside herself with glee to see Momma�s Holy Elixir* because she�s just moments from the Milk Motherload (yes, MOTHER-load). I place my book and beer within reach on the table next to the sofa. I sit down and arrange the pillow on my lap. I lift the now-fractious (uh-uh-uuuhhh-uuuhhh) young toddler. I disrobe so that a Holy Breast is exposed. I place child to said breast. I place bottle to my mouth. We both imbibe. Joy to the world, all is good.
Judge if you must but this is the extent of my alcohol consumption on any given day. I find it amusing that Red is as thrilled as I am to see that bottle emerge. You may feel differently but if you had to be in the same house with this child, especially following a frustrating day at work, you�d wonder how I can stop at one. Mainly, poverty. I just can�t afford anymore than one beer a day.
The last time I bought a six-pack with Red in tow, I happened to fall into a conversation about her poor sleeping habits with the very nice large bald and generously-tattooed guy at the cash register. He said when his kids were babies, he�d give them a bit of whisky in their milk to help them sleep. I thanked him for his 1920�s-era advice (he wasn�t any older than me). I don�t think I�ll be following his advice but it�s nice to know others � strangers -- care enough about my well-being to suggest I give my child liquor to calm her down. Don�t think it hasn�t occurred to me before. It�s just that I hate to waste perfectly good alcohol on a child. I�d rather drink it myself (not that I could stomach whiskey, per se, but you know what I�m saying.)
And lest you think me a complete reprobate, as I write this, Red is sitting in her booster seat happily eating Oatios, cantaloupe and blueberries. She�s a good eater and, like her sister, enjoys a good stalk or two of broccoli with her meal. Apart from the beer-laced milk she imbibes, she eats a good diet of homemade bread, fruits and vegetables and soymilk. And, no, there�s no whiskey in the soymilk. At least, not yet.
So, she's happy and healthy. And there's not much more you can ask for than that. Unless it's hours and hours of unbroken sleep. But, I'm not going to push my luck.
* I just looked up �elixir� in the dictionary and it�s described thusly: a substance held capable of prolonging life indefinitely, a cure-all, and the essential principle. That�s it exactly.
