....now it just makes me feel old. This week I was buying beer, wine and pre-made margarita mix. With all the shit I've had to go through in the last few weeks, those three things have almost become staples in my house- like water, bread and milk.
So anyway, this week I was at the store, alone, strictly to buy the booz. Here's my "good mom" thinking; I dont like to buy a bunch of alcohol with my kids around. They don't need to see it, and I don't need to be stocking up on beer with my kids in tow. I'll buy a bottle of wine when they're with me for our weekly shopping trip, but that's different. This trip was my "stocking up" purchase. So the kids stayed home with their dad.
I have to draw my parenting limits somewhere. You understand.
While I'm at the self-checkout station, the attendant lady comes over, takes a look in my cart (I hate this part), and then her eyes slowly move up to my face. I stare back at her. She's obviously searching her mental database for a guess on my age. I know this because I had to do this very thing for almost ten years working in a bar. I smile sweetly, hoping for "the question" and she goes-
"Don't you want to see my ID?"
"No, that's okay. You're good."
"Are you sure? You don't want to see it? I'll show it to you..."
"Um, no, I don't need to see it." Now she's starting to look a little uncomfortable.
"Do I really look old enough not to be carded?"
This is when she smiles tightly and sort of walks away without answering me.
Thanks lady for making my day. Now I'll head home, put on some anti-wrinkle cream and cry in my beer.