Sass in the Suburbs
Heartfelt opinions & anecdotes from the crazy girl next door
Toddlers and Sierras
Categories: Uncategorized

I’m definitely a pint glass half empty kind of girl, which brings me to my latest dilemma. There is a non-chain brewery opening up a hop, sip and a fist pump from my house, but apparently breweries and wineries are so money hungry they are successfully encouraging parents to sign their kids up as drinking buddies.

A kid-friendly drinking place is an oxymoron. You mean to tell me there are play areas like it’s a fucking Chick fil A? What is next, a squirt gun area at the shooting range? Disney section at MVC? Bounce house at a crack house? Much like my friend’s advice about me buying and wearing boy’s sized “Husky” clothesjust because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Kids and parents have already taken over coffee shops, the gym and the well, the world; is nothing sacred? If the main attraction of an event or place is something that is for people over 21 years old, do the math. Not good at math—use the alphabet…think rated R movie.

I’m not judging the parents for arriving in an UberPool with car seat and I’m not the least bit worried about the kids’ future, but more so with my present. Ironically one of the best presents I’ve ever received is the right to choose to not have kids. But who knows now that that planning nap time around beer thirty is socially acceptable, the sky is the limit. I don’t always drink from a bottle but when I do I prefer it not be filled with bodily fluids.

Contrary to popular belief I actually prefer the company of well behaved kids to most adults. They are honest and don’t give a shit, much like your girl, but let’s face it well behaved kids are as rare as intelligent Destiny’s Child members (sorry Kelly Rowland, I still like you). Unless they have taken their daily dose of Dyziplen the little tykes can be quite the handfuls, and by handfuls I mean assholes (they lied Kimmy).

While you may not care what your kids may witness and while in your mind, chugging wine while wearing your baby is just another chapter of mommyhood, it’s rather presumptuous to assume that others will not be affected. You are clearly not babysitting that beer, but is that beer babysitting your baby?

Believe it or not a lot of parents go out to get away from their own freaking kids and hearing MOMMY-DADDY-POOPY every 4 seconds, can’t be relaxing. It’s pretty selfish that just because you can’t drink in peace that we can’t either. Do I come to your happy place and ruin it? Shouldn’t you be home in the backyard playing catch and eating non GMO hot dogs or something?

Why not pack up the family flip cup game and head to, oh, I don’t know, a park, playground, sporting event, ball field, picnic, lake, camp, puppet show, movie, bookstore, library or pretty much ANYWHERE (click for ideas) other than a local watering hole where people are just trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents and live they life. The least you can do is wait until the mini human is at least 10 years old so that they can drive us home afterward.

The majority of bar patrons should not have to censor their behavior or deal with people turning the patio into a pump and dump lactation station just because the beer at Chuck E. Cheese isn’t hipster enough for today’s parent.

Since it seems that neither myself nor the broods of booster seats bellying up to the bar are backing down, we can agree to disagree with common sense. But before you plan little Timmy’s Brews Clues Hoppy Birthday or Becky’s My-First-Pinot Princess Party (I’m having one of these ASAP btw), recognize that we are all entering at our own risk. It’s all about learning life skills from one another.

After a week of working hard for the money, I shouldn’t be alarmed if upon entrance to an adult establishment, I hear the delicate screams and cries of eager little lungs–and the kids should not be surprised when I politely ask them to play the “hold your breath” game.

I’ll keep the swearing down to a light roar if the rugrats make sure to earmuff it til their arms fall off.

I’ll bring the Kahlua and vodka and you bring the mother’s milk (the dude does NOT abide).

I’ll be ready for the pitter patter of curious tots trampling my hopes and dreams and kids should be ready for baptism by beer.  

We can incessantly babble together and if I still smoked I would use your tiny head as an ashtray.

Plus hey, if pissing your pants and puking on yourself is par for the course, not only was my ex-boyfriend a trend setter, I just saved a ton of time waiting in line for the bathroom. Raise em up baby!

Here’s looking at you kid, but mostly at your parents.

This was clearly not written for anyone I know, as my friends and family are perfect like me.

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