My husband and I just had our first date since baby number two arrived unexpectedly early seven months ago.
Husband’s office Christmas party. I know, exciting, right?
First, I order a Mojito before I even sit down, because I'm going to need it. We sit next to the funny guy I remember from previous years because everyone else is at least 20 years older than we are. Small talk, lots of small talk. I hate small talk. Pass around photos of the baby, answer all the questions. I attempt to remember which person is where on the office totem pole and which college team they root for (this is North Carolina, it matters) so that I can make the appropriate jokes. Text babysitter. Order a martini, because martinis sound sophisticated, and most of the men are drinking Scotch that is older than me. At some point I hide in the bathroom. Then I eat my weight in free food. I spend the meal having a surprisingly good time, but imagining every awkward possibility. “I called that lady Barbara. Is her name Barbara?! What if her name is Beth and I just made things weird!?” I soothe my nerves with chocolate. I should probably not be allowed out of the house to socialize with the public. I warn my husband it is about time to go, but he keeps talking about basketball. After covertly feeling myself up I tell him it's time to go in the voice that says if he doesn't listen I WILL announce to the whole table that my boobs are about to explode. Get home to a sleeping baby. I feel a little relieved when he wakes up, because oh my aching boobs, and also because I missed him.
It wasn't a perfect way to spend our first date in almost a year, but it did remind me of the importance of making time for ourselves on occasion. Next time we will make sure it is also BY ourselves.