deep dark parenting confessions: date night

June 18, 2012

before he had to die for eating my plant

Jon and I went out on a date Friday night, something we only get to do once or twice a year. Bless our friend's hearts for watching over that crazy thing so we could go out after 8pm alone. In fact every time we've ever had a date night since Jude's birth it's been because of those same awesome friends. I need to buy them flowers or cake or make them something from pinterest as a proper 'really really thank you' but I don't think that would cut it. Maybe a pony? A hybrid car?

Lack of date night seems like a pretty common phenomenon to those who don't have family living locally. When Jude was born our pediatrician had all kinds of advice for me about sleeping and eating and infant care but only one mission for Jon: "Take Mommy out on a Mommy-date in the next six weeks." And he went on and on about it to the point where I wanted to slap him in his ancient mouth just so he would fucking. stop. talking. If he had said, "Just drop the baby with Grandma and Grandpa!" one more time we might have been saved from the whole lead-poisoning debacle because he would be dead, D-E-D. Finally one time I did reply that our families lived out of town, and he said "Oh." and never brought it up again because yeah, it's not that easy for some of us. Then again, he was also puzzled when I returned to work. In retrospect that dude had a lot of red flags, including referring to a grown-ass woman as "Mommy" and inventing the phrase "Mommy-date." BARF PUNCH CRY.

The reality of it was that for the first year or so I had zero desire to leave Jude with anyone else anyway. In all honesty, being away as a nursing mom was more headache than it was worth. Pumping? Bottles? Engorgement? No, really, either I'll bring him along or I'll just stay home. I'm sure that was not Jon's favorite part of babyhood, but it was temporary and look, everything's fine now. The kid is well-adjusted and I've mellowed out.

All of this rainbow unicorn I-like-the-way-things-are crap does not stop me from occasionally having to fight back hideous irrational jealousy when people mention their weekly date night, or flippantly mention dropping the kids off to get a break, ha ha ha. How nice for you, that you have free babysitting whenever you want. I've veered off in an unanticipated direction here, but I think about this silently in my brain and never tell anyone, in fact I have no idea why I'm doing it now, it's probably a terrible idea and I should stop talking nearly immediately but I can't it's still happening.

Help being just a phone call away is not how things are for us, nor would I really want it that way. I chose to become a parent, this is the job I signed up for knowing what was ahead. You don't just get to tag out whenever you find it annoying– and then I put my smug self into time out in the corner and shake my finger in my own face and rub my nose in some pee.

And if you think I'm talking about your weekly date night, I'm not. So there. Now scroll back up and look at that picture of a beetle. Amazing, right? Took that with muh telephone. What does it have to do with this post? NOTHING. BUT LOOK AT HIM.

Feel free to roll up your newspaper and hit me with it. It's been that kind of day so far. Bad grumbles! NO! Sit! Stay!

If you missed it, better reading for lighter fluffier times:

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Chatter Box: Madonna’s Butt, Richard Belzer Isn’t Funny, Nicole Kidman Did Sex Scenes ‘For Her Daughters’
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