(photograph by NovemberDreams)
My husband has never taken me out on a date. That's right, never. We've gone out, yes, but hes never taken me anywhere. There's a big difference, right? There's probably at least one gal reading this, thinking "whats the big deal, why does he have to take you out?", and that's fine, really, some people probably don't see why it matters so much (I think I was one of them up until a week ago). But after being with somebody for five years, married to them for three of those, it matters. In a brief moment of selfishness, I decided I wanted to feel special, too. I voiced my opinion, in the form of an adult tantrum (we all have our moments), and then stomped off with my nose in a tissue. And you know what? It worked.
Last night while I was cleaning the counter, Cinderella style (that's what it felt like, at least), my husband asked me "what are your plans for tomorrow"? I thought nothing of it (the tantrum had been days ago, by the way), I just blabbed on and on, about "I have to work on binky leashes, put together a tutorial for the Dramalogues, I need to edit the kids 365's, other than that- oh wait, I wanted to bake some bagels too, but I guess I don't have to do that un-", he cut me off. "Because I was thinking we could go out". I didn't understand. I didn't say anything back. "I called Kristen, shes going to come over and watch the kids, and-", "REALLY?!" I shouted. My ridiculous childlike tantrum had worked?? My husband was going to take me out?!
We stood in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter, discussing where we'd go for our big night. His plans were, to take me to a movie, and then to this fancy martini bar downtown. Nice, right? As happy as I was that he had made plans for us (I was so excited that I was literally bouncing in place), I really just wanted to go get a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks? Kind of silly, I know. Last year I was "allergic" to them, or so I thought (long story there), and all I've been able to think about for the past week, is how badly I want to hold a hot cardboard mug in my hands and inhale the flavored steam as deeply into my nostrils as my nose will allow. He gave me a funny look, probably thinking 'are you serious?'. I asked him if he was mad (he said no), and then went on to encourage that if he really wanted to go see the movie and go to the martini bar (I just didn't think we'd really have anything to talk about while we were there, and it would be loud, and... ) that we could. We talked about going to the drive in, but nothing good was scheduled. I'm afraid of scary movies, and a romantic comedy doesn't seem like something I'd want to waste my once-in-a-lifetime big date night on. When I stopped to think about it, I really just wanted to get a coffee and go sit on a bench at the park with him, like we used to do. Before kids, before the military, before Texas. We used to get coffee and go to the park in Portland all the time. And when I said this out loud...
"DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!", Eleanore screamed from the living room? "DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!", she screamed again, when there was no immediate response. She jumped up, ran across the floor, skidded to a stop on the hard woods in front of the kitchen, and one more time, yelled "DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!"
By now Christopher and I were bent over holding our stomachs, laughing. Of course, of course, the one serious, and honestly quite romantic, conversation that we were having (no arguing involved) in decades, would be interrupted by a three year old eavesdropping and exploding into a playground induced seizure of excitement.
Yes Eleanore, somebody said park. And for the first time in your 3 years of beautiful life, Mommy and Daddy are going without you. And we're taking pumpkin spice lattes, drenched in whip cream.