This week my daughter asked if she could have a friend over after school. I called her mom to make arrangements and she was like, "Actually, I would like to have both of your girls over this Saturday for a sleep over." Say what? That sounded amazing. My husband and I have not had a date night in quite some time so this was a lovely surprise. The kids were excited, so it was a win-win. We dropped them off in the late afternoon. They gave us a quick kiss and ran off. We talked for a few minutes and she asked, "Will your kids be okay at night?Will they cry because they miss their mom?" Yeah right. "No, they will complain when it is time to go home." They really have no problems leaving me. I am glad about this in a lot of ways. They are independent, well-adjusted kids. They can have fun and be away from us and know it's okay and we're coming back. But a little piece of me thinks they are traitors.
After we dropped them off we discussed how we should spend our evening. I was like, "Let's walk around in our underwear, eat junk, say a lot of curse words and watch a violent movie. Then, we can sleep like crazy. Sleep like we never have before. Sleep all-night-long." Those are all restricted things when you have kids. It seems almost forbidden and dangerous to do them now. My husband laughed and said, "You wanna go to Barnes and Noble?" "Sure." So we did that. I looked at the new releases, I browsed through beauty magazines until I started to feel ugly, I looked at cook books. I was getting hungry so I said, "Let's go eat." My husband was like, "It's only 4:40." I didn't have a problem. "Great. We can beat the crowds." I instantly felt lame when I said it. Who goes to dinner at 4:40 besides senior citizens? I don't care though, I'm not that cool. So we went.
We sat down and ate bread and talked. We discussed work and the news and were generally boring. Friends of ours are due to have a baby this weekend and my husband works with the guy so we talked out that. "Yeah, I was telling him a bunch of horror stories about when the kids were babies. Like how C was in the car seat." I forgot about that. Our oldest daughter was horrible when she was in the car seat. Literally, every time she was in the car, she would scream. She would scream until she was red. She would scream until she would gasp for breath. We would drive 10 miles and then pull over and take her out and calm her down, then we would drive 10 more miles and we would nurse, then drive 10 more miles and take her out again. Sometimes I would just cry with her. She would scream and I would turn the music up and just sob. I had to emotionally prepare myself every time I left the house. When we finally got to our destination I would hold her in the back seat and she would catch her breath and tears would run down her face and she would look at me with her accusing baby eyes that said, "Why do you always torture me?" She did this for an entire year. I shuddered just thinking about it. I will file that memory away the next time I have a moment of insanity and feel sad that there won't be anymore babies in our house. "You are bad for telling him that." My husband laughed, "You think that's bad, one of my co-workers said all 3 of his kids were like that." Those poor parents. We enjoyed our meal and surprisingly talked about other things besides the kids. It was nice.
We got home and were trying to decide on a movie and I agreed to watch Hemlock Grove with my husband. It's a new Netflix series that's kind of creepy. I don't watch movies that often and when I do they are pretty tame so it was pretty shocking. Extremely gory, lots of f-words, 17 year olds doing cocaine, erroneous sex scenes every 10 minutes. They were going out to eat a lot, and I'm not talking about McDonalds. Colonel Angus made an appearance many times. I turned to my husband and said, "I actually really like this show and I kind of feel wrong about it." It was so bad it was good. It was the perfect pick for a non-kid night.
We went to bed and the house was quiet. The energy in the house seemed different. It is weird when the kids aren't here. It's like something is missing or out of place. I then remembered that I could sleep until 9 am and besides, they aren't missing me anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment