You found yourself a man. . .

January 14, 2011




Date night!!!!!!!!!!!!

After we finish at the Community Kitchen, Stephen is taking me out for dinner.

Given my dietary restrictions,  going out for a meal is no easy feat.

Standard reasons for going out, such as eating something you can't make at home are out the window.

Hence, we are going to Swiss Chalet.

No surprises.

Nice salads.

But alas, no Chalet fries with Chalet sauce and ketchup for me.

Sadly.

None for Stephen, either.

Even more sad.

If I were a stronger, perhaps even better woman, I would possess the intestinal fortitude to sit across from my husband while he eats, enjoys, relishes his Swiss Chalet fries.

But I'm not a stronger or better woman, and if I had to sit across from him while he feasted on fries, I fear I would suffer a complete loss of my already minimal self-restraint. 

I'd eat his fries and then begin a rampage through the dining room grabbing fries from patron's plates, making small children cry, and then finish in the kitchen by eating every fried potato product in sight.

So no, Stephen will have to eat salad, too.

Either that or prepare to visit me at the police station once I'd been charged with public destruction, public nuisance, and unethical treatment towards potatoes. 

Perhaps if it wasn't so close to the end of Christmas, my resolve would be more stalwart.

But my strength is still significantly depleted from eschewing all that delectable mincemeat pie over the holidays.

And one person can only evade so much.





I can't remember the last time Stephen and I went out together just because we could.

And not because we needed groceries. 

Or some other errand that needed doing. 

Rarely do we ever get out.

Which is odd considering the amount of time we spend together.

Alone.

As the kids all work or are out gallivanting about, Stephen and I have found that more and more of our evenings are spent partially or fully, alone.

Not a chick nor child in sight.

So you would think that we'd take advantage of that time and do something together.

Other than sitting in our home office, together.

Stephen blasting music from you tube.

ABBA.

Diana Ross.

The Four Seasons.

The Cowsills.

Other bands from his generation I've never heard of before.

While I sit at my little table, headphones on, listening to movies or television programs.

Attempting to avoid the onslaught of a flailing Stephen.

Who thinks he's dancing.

When what he's actually doing is closer to a tribal rite of passage, or an Olympic event.

Either way, getting too close can lead to irreparable physical harm.

For both of us.

Or watching the news, commenting on whatever trial, tribulation or travesty had happened over the course of the day.

Laying in bed together, reading, sometimes sharing passages of what we were reading to one another.

All of which is well and good and fine, and most of the time even lovely.

But it isn't the same as going out somewhere with your husband.

In public.

For a couple of hours at least.

Before we are driven home by the pull of the canine cord.

Their need to pee.

Get out.

Take control.

See their Mummy.

So while we're out, we'll enjoy it.

Knowing it may be a while before it happens again.






But working together, grocery shopping and running errands do not dates make.

Inevitably, we are with others.

And that isn't a bad thing at all.

However, every once in a while it is nice to go somewhere, just the two us.

Talk about whatever.

Or not talk at all, as the case may be.

Okay.

THAT isn't likely.

At least we can go out on the occasional date night.

There were times, when we were dating, that getting out together was harder that it ought to have been.

Em, especially, was determined that Stephen and I spend as little time alone as possible.

It wasn't as if Stephen and I were going out clubbing.

Although that would be interesting.

Or to the car races out in Geary.

That would be most unlikely.

No.

Most of the time we simply went to Starbucks for coffee, and then back home again.

But for Em, it wouldn't matter where we went, or for how long, it was that we had left.

Period.

One memorable evening she threw herself in the hallway at my feet and proceeded to engage in the most vociferous of temper tantrums I've ever seen her perform.

Mer, lots of creative, engaging, sometimes almost amusing tantrums.

But this was a new one for Em.

Perhaps because she had never been in need of such enticements.

I had never really gone anywhere with out her.

Or her me.

Except for work and school.

But she was, indeed, jealous of my spending time with Stephen.

And she flung herself on the floor, kicking and screaming with such force I was convinced she was going to beat her way through to the basement.

Or the neighbours were going to call the police.

Me?

I did the only thing I could do.

Stepping over her theatrical performance, I said goodbye to all the kids and left.

Stephen, when we were in the car, suggested perhaps we should stay home.

I turned in my seat, looked him square in the eye, and said if we didn't leave now, we'd never get out of the house again until all the kids had moved out and being tied to the interior of my house, or if I was fortunate enough, the yard was not how I envisioned the next several years of my life, so no thank you let's head up to Starbucks and do you think they might put a shot of brandy or other alcohol into our coffee?

Em didn't speak to me for two days.



Title Lyric: Dating Game by Sublime