The hubby and I had two rare nights together without the girls this week.
Dos…dos beotches! Woo hoo!
We usually do date nights on weekends but there are only a few more weeks until 2nd grade begins for Miss C and I’ve been pretty creative in filling her days while we’re at work this summer so it just seemed like a “hey, why not, it’s summer” impromptu kind of idea for them to stay with our parents during the middle of the week. We’re wild and crazy like that.
On Tuesday they spent the night with the hubby’s mom and dad (Mimi and PeePaw…yes we live in the South, how could you guess?) and they stayed with my mom (Grandma) on Wednesday. Tuesday night was glorious. We reveled in the kid free zone. The hubby grilled steaks and we drank wine. A lot of wine. Too much wine. We were like two teenagers whose parents had skipped town and naively left us in charge, not to mention fully aware, unbeknownst to them, of the whereabouts to the key to the liquor cabinet. We stayed up too late, no matter that it was a work night. This was freedom! Cue George Michael Freedom. OK, the hubby would hate that. Cue the bow chicka bow wow music. We were alone.
On Wednesday night we took the Natchez Trace to downtown Franklin for dinner at Sol, an awesome upscale Mexican restaurant with exposed brick walls and funky artwork and a great vibe. The guacamole was made fresh at our table and it was an avocado love fest. We had margaritas with dinner and we even hit Red Pony, owned by the same chef, afterwards for a drink. Really crazy for a work night.
We came home to a quiet house and by that point we were both missing our girls. I was tired. I just wanted to go to bed and I was cranky. The house seemed empty without the girls’ incessant talking and the warmth of simply their being. I missed their unbridled silliness and their tromping about the house in bare feet and ice cream sundae theme pajamas and their wild imaginations and even their arguing. Their bedrooms were still. Their toys were untouched. The TV was off. Hell, I even missed Sponge Bob.
It was great to have a parenting break. It was so nice just to hang out with my husband, my best friend. It was so nice to have two nights where I wasn’t doting on the girls and having the freedom to get up and get ready for work without tending to a dozen little needs, from chocolate milk requests to “mommy I can’t get my shoe on,” but I was ready for them to come home. As much as I needed a parenting break and as much as I could probably manage three, even four or five or six nights away from them, I was ready for them to come home.
As you can see, the girls were quite neglected when the hubby picked them up at my mom’s yesterday morning as they went straight to Krispy Kreme.