So. Read any book, blog, or magazine article about how to have a successful marriage while raising small kids and there's one thing pretty much all of them agree on: Date Night.
While the kind of date night advice varies from "date your husband like you did before you got married" to "spend your Saturday night grocery shopping together - redeeming coupons can be excellent foreplay!" One thing they all suggest is that you get out of the house and away from the kids for at least two hours and spend some time together that doesn't involve baby talk. Unless that's what you're into, I guess.
Now, I don't want to date my husband like I did before we had kids. Mostly because my tolerance for tequila shots is a LOT lower than it used to be (or should be, for that matter, considering I have three kids).
Now, I don't want to date my husband like I did before we had kids. Mostly because my tolerance for tequila shots is a LOT lower than it used to be (or should be, for that matter, considering I have three kids).
And grocery shopping is out - I do that online and pick up my groceries curbside so that I can avoid having to be in a public place with my kids where other people might judge my parenting skills. This also explains why I don't go to the mall, library, or post office with my kids (FYI postal employees don't think it's funny when you ask how much it costs to send a screaming two year old to Antartica using priority mail).
But I do agree that time away from the kids is important, so I try to schedule an adult dinner out with Husband for as many Saturday nights as I can find babysitters for. And I cherish these nights out.
Even though most of the time we are with other couples and I spend so much of the meal talking to the other women that at the end of the evening I don't know what my husband ordered or if he's sober enough to drive home ( and since he weighs like 75 pounds even if he's had two beers the answer to that is usually no).
Even though I get to bed later than usual on those nights but my kids have yet to allow me to sleep later than usual the next morning.
Even though the cost of paying a baby sitter to care for our three kids means that they might be wearing pants with holes in the knees for the foreseeable future.
It doesn't matter - I get three hours without hearing "Mom I need something" and anyway my kids are boys so they don't care about their ripped jeans. And according to the experts I'm saving my marriage to boot.
Recently, however, I noticed a problem the whole "Date Night will Save Your Marriage" thing. It's that getting ready for this night out has turned into a two hour event that is almost as stressful as getting my kids to school in the morning.
5 pm I tell Husband that we are getting picked up at 6:40. I ask him if he will need to shower first. He says yes. The kids are playing independently outside and I am folding laundry. I suggest he go take a shower now, knowing that I if I do it as soon as I'm done the kids will suddenly need my assistance with the sandbox/swingset/water table and I'll end up sweaty and frizzy by 5:15.
Husband says "I have plenty of time, I'll continue watching this soccer match." Husband is one of those guys who pays attention to soccer for two weeks every four years. I remind him that the kids need a bath and that I need to get ready too. He tells me Uruguay is winning.
5:15 I start making dinner. The World Cup is in between games so Husband goes for a bike ride with Kid #1. I boil macaroni and cheese while running in and out of the house making sure that Kid #2 isn't feeding Kid #3 bugs or dirt or anything. He isn't. He is instead pouring buckets of sand on Kid #3's head but Kid #3 is laughing so I cut up some fruit to go with their dinner.
I am a good mom.
5:30 Husband is back with Kid #1. I tell them dinner is ready and call out the window to Kid #2 and #3. Kid #2 comes running. Kid #3 can't run but I assume he's crawling after his brother.
5:35 Kid #3 has not made it into the house. I look outside at the sandbox, he is not there. CRAP. I picture him being carried off into the woods behind our house by the rabid raccoon who sometimes comes out at night to eat the Goldfish crumbs the kids leave on the deck.
I am the worst mom.
He'll probably be better off with his new family of raccoons.
5:36 Find Kid #3 standing next to the tire swing on the playground, laughing. Bring him in for dinner. Announce that I'm going up to take a shower. Suddenly Kid #1 wants chicken noodle soup instead of Mac and cheese, Kid #2 wants more juice and Kid #3 can't talk but sees the cut up grapes on the counter and throws his macaroni and cheese on the floor and starts screeching until I give him some fruit.
Consider returning to waitressing. The breakfast rush at the restaurant I used to work at was nothing compared to this crowd. I'll take grumpy old men sending back their eggs over a three year old who wants his food blown on any day. At least they leave a tip.
5:45 Survey the kids eating dinner and Husband watching soccer (Seriously? More soccer?) and decide it's time to make my escape. If I don't announce I'm going to go take a shower they won't be able to stop me.
Also, once I'm gone Husband will have to stop watching and clean up the mess in the kitchen. Score for me (something that rarely happens in soccer)!
5:50 Get into the shower and relish being able to shampoo and condition without anyone banging on the shower door to tell me that his brother is dunking toilet paper in the toilet and then sucking on it.
Shave my legs.
Shave my armpits.
Shave other areas that have been neglected since Kid #3's birth but not the areas that will give Husband the idea that I want to try for Kid #4 tonight.
6:00 Get out of the shower. Dry my hair and use the straight iron. Pluck my eyebrows and apply eyeshadow and eyeliner. Feel a little guilty that Husband is stuck with the clean up but not guilty enough to leave the oasis of my bathroom.
6:05 Wonder what's taking the kids so long to finish eating. Decide to wait until I am dressed to find out. Try on the outfit I had planned on wearing and ask myself if I'll be able to suck in my belly all night. Remind myself that Kid #3 was worth the destruction of my abdominal muscles.
6:10 Change outfits three times and wonder if my kids would hate me forever if I died on the table while getting a tummy tuck.
6:11 Freak out because the babysitter will be here in 19 minutes and no one except me is clean. Consider skipping the kids' bath but remember #2 dumping sand on #3.
Yell to my husband "Aren't we bathing the kids tonight?"
His response "Are we?"
I'm pretty sure I mentioned this an hour ago.
6:15 The kids show up for their baths. When I ask what took so long they tell me Daddy was making them clean their plates.
Wonder why tonight of all nights we are taking a stand on clean plates.
Strip #1 and #2 and put them in the bathtub. Yell for Husband to bring up #3.
6:18 #3 appears with a dirty diaper. Husband offers me the option of cleaning up dinner or changing the diaper.
He's fucking with me right?
First of all there is no lesser of two evils when it comes to changing a dirty diaper and scraping mashed up macaroni and cheese, grapes, and juice off of the kitchen table, chairs and floor.
Second of all, wasn't he supposed to be cleaning up while I was getting ready? Ask him what he's been doing for the last 28 minutes. "Watching the kids eat" is his answer. I would believe it if he hadn't left the soccer game on downstairs.
Regret feeling guilty for spending twenty eight minutes getting ready.
Regret ever thinking David Beckham was cute.
6:20 Throw Husband a package of baby wipes and head downstairs to clean up the kitchen. Try to avoid splashing dirty dishwater on my going out clothes.
6:25 Kids are standing at the top of the stairs screaming my name. Find them soaking wet and naked.
Ask them why they aren't in their pajamas. Or dry. "Daddy told us you would get us dressed."
Run up the stairs to ask husband if this is a joke. Hear the shower turn on.
6:29 Pajamas are on and kids are dressed. Head downstairs to find our five year old neighbor, Mikoon, walking in the back door. He takes off his shoes and settles in on the couch for an episode of Ninjago without saying hello.
Mikoon's parents are surgeons from Mumbai. Mikoon goes to Kumon three days a week and can probably teach my kids algebra. Mikoon is not allowed to watch TV at home. Mikoon spends a lot of time at our house.
Reflect that maybe Kumon should teach basic etiquette.
6:30 Receive a text from sitter that she's at the front door. She's new and either I didn't hear her knock or she's the one person who actually reads the "Please do not ring bell, baby sleeping" sign I put on the front door for the UPS man and mailman since actually going to the post office is out of the question.
Get to the door at the same time as my husband comes downstairs to hand me the baby. Husband is showered and wearing his dress pants and a wife beater.
Wonder when Husband started wearing wife beaters.
Explain to the sitter that husband is usually fully dressed when sitters arrive. Remind husband he's not allowed to talk to babysitters and send him back up to finish getting dressed.
6:35 I have revealed the contents of my pantry and freezer to the sitter and showed her how to use the remote controls. Think about going over emergency numbers or what to do if the kids act up.
Figure she has a smart phone and can google it.
Introduce her to the boys, try to make her guess which one doesn't belong to us (the dark one! Ha ha!). Either she doesn't get the joke or she's scared I'm being serious.
Decide maybe I shouldn't be allowed to talk to babysitters either.
6:40 Our ride is here. Yell for husband, yell bye to the boys, who are having a light saber/ninja sword fight and don't respond, hand baby to babysitter.
Baby starts to scream.
By the time my shoes are on his screams are drowning out Ninjago the voices in my head saying "Are you really leaving your crying baby with a new sitter without letting him get to know her first?"
Luckily it's too loud to pay attention to that voice. Wonder why the medication I'm on isn't drowning out that voice.
Tell the sitter the baby will stop crying eventually. Babysitter looks nervous. "Is there something I should use to calm him down?"
Husband and I look at each other and shrug. "Let us know what you figure out!"
Get in friend's minivan and pull out of the driveway.
Free at last.
6:10 Change outfits three times and wonder if my kids would hate me forever if I died on the table while getting a tummy tuck.
6:11 Freak out because the babysitter will be here in 19 minutes and no one except me is clean. Consider skipping the kids' bath but remember #2 dumping sand on #3.
Yell to my husband "Aren't we bathing the kids tonight?"
His response "Are we?"
I'm pretty sure I mentioned this an hour ago.
6:15 The kids show up for their baths. When I ask what took so long they tell me Daddy was making them clean their plates.
Wonder why tonight of all nights we are taking a stand on clean plates.
Strip #1 and #2 and put them in the bathtub. Yell for Husband to bring up #3.
6:18 #3 appears with a dirty diaper. Husband offers me the option of cleaning up dinner or changing the diaper.
He's fucking with me right?
First of all there is no lesser of two evils when it comes to changing a dirty diaper and scraping mashed up macaroni and cheese, grapes, and juice off of the kitchen table, chairs and floor.
Second of all, wasn't he supposed to be cleaning up while I was getting ready? Ask him what he's been doing for the last 28 minutes. "Watching the kids eat" is his answer. I would believe it if he hadn't left the soccer game on downstairs.
Regret feeling guilty for spending twenty eight minutes getting ready.
Regret ever thinking David Beckham was cute.
6:20 Throw Husband a package of baby wipes and head downstairs to clean up the kitchen. Try to avoid splashing dirty dishwater on my going out clothes.
6:25 Kids are standing at the top of the stairs screaming my name. Find them soaking wet and naked.
Ask them why they aren't in their pajamas. Or dry. "Daddy told us you would get us dressed."
Run up the stairs to ask husband if this is a joke. Hear the shower turn on.
6:29 Pajamas are on and kids are dressed. Head downstairs to find our five year old neighbor, Mikoon, walking in the back door. He takes off his shoes and settles in on the couch for an episode of Ninjago without saying hello.
Mikoon's parents are surgeons from Mumbai. Mikoon goes to Kumon three days a week and can probably teach my kids algebra. Mikoon is not allowed to watch TV at home. Mikoon spends a lot of time at our house.
Reflect that maybe Kumon should teach basic etiquette.
6:30 Receive a text from sitter that she's at the front door. She's new and either I didn't hear her knock or she's the one person who actually reads the "Please do not ring bell, baby sleeping" sign I put on the front door for the UPS man and mailman since actually going to the post office is out of the question.
Get to the door at the same time as my husband comes downstairs to hand me the baby. Husband is showered and wearing his dress pants and a wife beater.
Wonder when Husband started wearing wife beaters.
Explain to the sitter that husband is usually fully dressed when sitters arrive. Remind husband he's not allowed to talk to babysitters and send him back up to finish getting dressed.
6:35 I have revealed the contents of my pantry and freezer to the sitter and showed her how to use the remote controls. Think about going over emergency numbers or what to do if the kids act up.
Figure she has a smart phone and can google it.
Introduce her to the boys, try to make her guess which one doesn't belong to us (the dark one! Ha ha!). Either she doesn't get the joke or she's scared I'm being serious.
Decide maybe I shouldn't be allowed to talk to babysitters either.
6:40 Our ride is here. Yell for husband, yell bye to the boys, who are having a light saber/ninja sword fight and don't respond, hand baby to babysitter.
Baby starts to scream.
By the time my shoes are on his screams are drowning out Ninjago the voices in my head saying "Are you really leaving your crying baby with a new sitter without letting him get to know her first?"
Luckily it's too loud to pay attention to that voice. Wonder why the medication I'm on isn't drowning out that voice.
Tell the sitter the baby will stop crying eventually. Babysitter looks nervous. "Is there something I should use to calm him down?"
Husband and I look at each other and shrug. "Let us know what you figure out!"
Get in friend's minivan and pull out of the driveway.
Free at last.
(FYI Kid #3 calmed down less than thirty seconds after we walked out the door, according to the babysitter. And aside from Kid #1 insisting on waiting up for us and kid #2 falling asleep in a pirate costume, the new sitter survived. And despite sitting at opposite ends of a restaurant table for three hours, Husband and I feel closer than ever).
I have the same sign, but in (terrible) German, taped over my doorbell. :) Great post, Brooke! Looking forward to seeing you and all the rugrats soon.
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