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Hot date night July 6, 2010

Posted by Erin F. Wasinger in Being a mama, It's how we roll.

Dave and I had a date Saturday.

Like, a real, leave-the-house kind of date. The kind where you get dressed up in your fancy pants and you do your hair and you eat your meal while it’s still warm and your meal includes no ketchup at all. And the kids are in someone else’s care, and you don’t even feel obligated to check your phone every few minutes.

Fancy pants.

Our friends watched our girls while we ate at a downtown restaurant and then went on Gallery Walk, where we lingered over pretty things, bought a ridiculously cute candle and took a tour of the Masonic Temple downtown, just because we could. We drank a glass of wine at the bar afterwards and tried to talk about something other than kids …

But we failed. We failed badly.

If it wasn’t kids, it was work. Or people from work. If it wasn’t kids, it was how much our cool points suffered because of our kids. If it wasn’t how uncool we were, it was how cool we wished to be. If it wasn’t any of that, it was our “five-year plan,” which Dave is dying to know and which I’m dying to just ignore for a little while, until I can convince my baby to sleep all night every night. Life plans? Shoot — I’m just dying to sleep past 7 a.m.

“Is it me? Am I too mom-ish and not, uh, desirable (air quotes) anymore?” I asked on our date, after he pulled his hand away from mine to Google a picture of some damn dog on his phone … A dog. REALLY. (Friendly tip: Maybe Google “seduction techniques” next time, Dave.)

“No, not at all!” he said, high voice and all.

“So it’s not the mom belly? Cuz I’ve been trying to get you to see me as NOT a mom, and I don’t think it’s working,” I said.

“No!” he said, slamming his phone shut.

Liar. Turns out, cleaning the spit-up scent from your neck doesn’t make you automatically as hot as, who, Keira Knightley? DAMN.

“I likey you,” Dave said. IMITATING OUR TODDLER.

OH BABY. YES, speak to me like our toddler again! That’s it! HOT.

Ah. So we need some more practice, I guess, in shedding our parent-selves. No one wants to make out with a parent. Gross.

(Photo: Two hours before I ditched my kids for a few hours for a night out to talk about my kids and have Dave whisper toddler-speak “I wub you” in my ear. HOT, HOT HOT.)



1. Alisa - July 6, 2010

Ok, so I’ve caught up on all things “Wonderland” and all I can do is laugh at the delight that is this blog and wish like heck you weren’t so hard on yourself!!

2. Alisa - July 6, 2010

Oh yeah…and “mom belly???” PUH-leeeeze! I wish I still had my college figure……

3. Erin - July 6, 2010

Thanks, I think? Holding the baby like that hides the mom belly. But really. I’ve been working out. None of this is an accident, I assure you. Haha.

4. mymomgenes - July 7, 2010

Hey, at least you were holding hands on your date. And speaking. =)

I start zumba next week. Its supposed to get rid of my ab flap AND make me feel less like someone who chops food into small bits and keeps track of others’ eliminations. I hope.

In any case, the first year of any baby’s life is designed to make you feel like a shadow of your former self.

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