First of all, I had this typed out earlier today and the internet took a dump and WordPress flushed my post. So suck eggs, AT&T. Second, Dan and I went on a date last night and I felt like I should come here and tell y’all about it because that’s what good bloggers do, right?
When I was naive and pregnant with Joshua, one of the pieces of advice I received on the regular was “don’t forget to date Dan!” And I was all, “That is AMAZING advice! Yes! Yes I will do that!”
And then postpartum anxiety grabbed me in a choke hold and made me such a control freak I would only leave him with family for the first three years of his life. The one time I did leave him with someone other than family, I had visions of him screaming the whole time and feeling abandoned and hating me. He slept the whole time I was gone and was obviously no worse for the experience.
Dan and I would go on the occasional outing, usually during the day when we could take him to the daycare we were already paying for. (The other reason we didn’t go out is because babysitters are expensive!) But we’ve only been on a handful of dates since Joshua was born, and one of those was a wedding which we were in so I’m not even sure it counts.
Yes, it’s that bad.
So when Dan got tickets to the Braves game from work (with a sweet valet parking pass! WOO!), I knew we had to go. We had to. We love sporting events and we needed this time away. But when my mom couldn’t come and watch the kids, my anxiety started creeping in.
We could just get a sitter for Joshua and take Emma with us. She would be free. She would probably sleep the whole time. I only have a teeny, tiny emergency stash in the freezer. We cloth diaper and that will be a pain in the ass for a sitter. Bath and bedtime with both of them is a nightmare.
But y’all, it was 100 degrees here yesterday. There was no way I could take her. And it felt wrong to take her to her first baseball game before Joshua’s been to his and yes I realize that sounds looney tunes, but it seriously crossed my mind and was a legitimate reason against taking her in my mind.
So I called one of Joshua’s teachers and asked her to watch them and she enthusiastically agreed. (It pays to have a kid the teachers love, y’all.) And while I might have been on the verge of hyperventilating while I walked her through their evening routines, Dan and I made it to the game and then home again and everyone survived.
We even had fun.
The Braves lost, which is, like, our fourth time watching them lose in that stadium. And we had to leave at the middle of the 8th inning because the skinny
bitches 23 year olds(!!!) sitting behind us spilled their beer down my back twice and talked about fat people and were generally just annoying which reminded me that I’m most definitely 30, no matter how hard it may be for me to wrap my head around that some days.
And it was 10:15, which is about 15 minutes past my bed time, which is further proof that I’m getting old.
And my boobs were about to explode. (Pumping in the car isn’t the sexiest way to end a date, just so you know.)
We got home and everything was quiet. My kids were good. Dan was good. I was good.
Everything was as it should be.
Date night, y’all. Just do it.