Warning Signs

When I was pregnant with our first daughter, James and I suffered under several delusions about what parenthood entailed and how we would handle various circumstances.  Firstly, we agreed that while our children would always remain the main focus of our universe, our relationship as a couple still needed to be nurtured and we needed valuable time alone in order to "make it."  This would be easy!  We'd just get a sitter (i.e. grandparent) one night a month so that we could enjoy a date night. 

We were idiots.

First of all, no parent ever actually gets to enjoy a date night.  Oh, you may have a good time, but you'll never really thoroughly enjoy yourself again.  By the time you pack the whole house up for the baby, drop them off (and the older they get, the harder THAT gets), and get wherever you're going....you spend the whole time thinking about them, talking about them, and/or calling to check on them.  Fast forward to the next day, and every routine you had established for them has magically dissipated and has to be re-established. 

That's just when they're babies.  The game changes when they get a little older - they start talking, then THEY want to call YOU while you're out.  Don't you dare not answer either.

Eventually, they will be teenagers though....and then I'll be seriously worried about what shenanigans are going down while I'm out.  Sheesh.

So, two kids later, we go out about 4-5 times a year.  And half of those are because we're attending a function of some sort...and don't even actually interact with each other all that much beyond the car ride there and back.

I can always tell when we NEED a date night though.  There are signs.  And this weekend has been ripe with them. Here are a few examples:

1. A really heated debate about how to properly pronounce a made-up word.
2. A vicious discussion about whose fault it is that we own a crappy dishwasher. (It's his fault, by the way.)
3. Me getting angry (not annoyed, ANGRY) about him making special requests concerning his laundry.
4. Him getting angry (not annoyed, ANGRY) about me telling him to fold his own damn sweaters.
5. I moved all of the pepperonis that I didn't want, to one side of the pizza I was cooking...even though I know it really annoys him when I do that. (Do you see how petty this is getting?!)

If I start packing the kids' bags and coordinating everyone's schedules now, we may be able to save our marriage before February!  At least we got gift cards for Christmas, so we won't have to argue about where to go. ;P

♥M