I should circle today, May 13—Friday the 13th ironically—on the calendar because tonight is the rare and elusive date night. Once a month, Cavan’s daycare offers “parents’ night out” where they remain open until 11 p.m. watching the little ones for a mere ten bucks. In addition to the cheap babysitter aspect, it is also a comforting, secure, and fun place to let Cavan play for a night: no worries about teenage babysitter antics or Cavan waking up to a stranger in the house instead of Mommy and Daddy.
But regardless of this monthly offering, Hubby and I have not had a date night since…oh my, November?? (Before writing this, I hadn’t realized it had been this long. This post may have just lost its humor. New, more accurate adjective: pathetic.)
Wait there’s a reason. Or multiple reasons. We're parents. Going out is complicated, whether it is with or without the kid. And news flash, I’m pregnant. Which for several months rendered me nauseated or vomiting on any given day, let alone that one Friday evening per month. And this was the worst winter for family illnesses that I can remember—Hubby and/or I were on antibiotics for nearly four continuous months. Who wants to “date” when you’re hacking up multicolored mucus.
But tonight is the finally the night. Destination Chili’s. It’s cheap. It’s close. It’s quick. And we will get to enjoy an evening of adult drinks (damn it, pregnancy, a mojito sounds good right now), uninterrupted conversation, and eating while our food is still hot. Tonight will not be about flaunting smokey eyes or Jimmy Choos; no red carpets or guest lists; no reservations or wine lists. But the absence of glam is not matter—it’s two hours or so where I can be selfish and indulgent without worrying about someone else’s constant needs, all while enjoying the company of my husband, for the man that he is, not the Daddy.
Some of our friends swear by date night. Some of them religiously reserve Friday AND Saturday nights for this cherished time. I am a homebody by nature and am just as happy with my weekend Netflix appointments as I am going out, but tonight, assuming that exhausting hasn’t rendered me useless in three hours, is definitely a highlight of my week. Maybe Hubby and I will even invoke that teenage spirit and hold hands—and not just while crossing the street. We only have two more date nights until the baby is born, so I better make the most of it, even if it only means b-b-babyback ribs instead of sushi and sake.
No comments:
Post a Comment