Recently, I turned to my husband and said, “Honey, I finished my young adult novel! Are you proud of me? And have you always worn your hair like that?” It was then that I realized...we need to go on a date.
Hubby and I have not gone out to dinner, alone, in over 5 months. I was ready to eat anything not made of imitation vegetable chicken nugget meat, or smothered in cheese.
It was all planned out. We’d drop our 4-year old off at the gym for their kids' party from 5 to 9. Cool. We had four hours. We’d have dinner at a fancy-pants restaurant then cruise on over for our 7 p.m. reservation at the hot tubs at Sycamore Mineral Springs. Lovely.
We arrived at the sushi restaurant by 5:30 (the same sushi restaurant where my hubby procures his vegetable oil for his car, so it felt only fitting to eat the same oil we were freely driving around on). But there was a line out the door. We wouldn't make our hot tub reservation! So we hightailed it to a café just around the corner from the hot springs.
The $4 beer? Good. The food? Not so good. (Why did I pay $13 for something I could've gotten at Carl's Jr.?) Just as we were finishing our not-so-good meal, our cell phones started ringing. My husband answered his.
Hubby: Hello? What!? My son has had an accident?
(Oh-my-god...my stomach did flips, I almost hurled my Carl's Jr.-ish food back onto my plate. Had my boy chopped his arm off? Was it dangling by a tendon?)
Hubby: Oh. He pissed his pants. That's...just...great. Yes, we'll be there right away.
I pictured my little boy sobbing in the corner because of his wet pants, and wishing he had parents who would go through life more prepared. It was 6:30. It would've taken us almost an hour to go home, get clothes, and get them back to the gym.
So we went shopping at Mervyn's. We looked at each other over the clearance items for Osh Kosh jeans and said, "Is this romantic? Are ya feeling it, honey?" We spent $22 on pants, new underwear, and socks.
We hightailed it back to the gym, fully expecting our boy to be balled up in a corner, mortified. Nope. He was fine. Just put on a diaper and kept on playing. He looked at his new clothes and sighed, as if putting these things on were going to slow him down. I told him we could take him home if he wanted. Nope. He wanted to stay.
I met my husband in the lobby. It was 7:20. We missed our hot tub reservation and we only had $5 left. So we ended up at Foster's Freeze sharing an Oreo Twister while we waited for our boy to be done with his night out.
So what are you all doing Friday night? Anyone want to babysit?