I went out on a date last night. With my husband.
It was awesome.
We saw a movie, but the movie wasn’t the awesome part. The last time I set foot in a movie theater was December 27, 2005. In less than 12 hours, I would give birth to my first (and so far only) child. We saw “Rumor Has It” which was frankly, not a very good movie. We decided to continue our streak last night with “Vantage Point” which, while starring the uber-talented Forrest Whitaker, was decidedly gimmicky and tiresome.
But I remembered how much I love the movie theater. The darkness, the smell of greasy popcorn, the taste of the icy Diet Coke, the snuggling with my sweetie during the scary parts. Afterward, at dinner, we talked about grown-up things and drank grown-up drinks and generally had a fantastic time getting re-acquainted without a two-year-old clamoring for attention.
R’s new day care, conveniently, hosts a Parents Night Out once a month, during which they stay open for signed-up children until midnight. When we arrived to pick her up, she was lounging on her sleeping bag watching The Jungle Book, her eyes barely open. She was happy to see us.
Living far away from any family and being an overprotective parent who doesn’t trust her child with just anyone, it’s been a long, long time since Dave and I were able to go out and enjoy each other’s company without needing to care for R. It was really refreshing. And as much as I hate to leave R, as guilty as I feel, I’m already looking forward to next month.