Having two kids means that time alone with my husband can be difficult to find. The nights when we are out on a bona fide date are rare enough to be a cause in themselves for celebration. I’ve come to realize that dates are partially psychological in basis. It’s a new affirmation that I’m repeating to myself. This very well may be the rationalization of someone who has been severely date-deprived since the children were born. Still, I think I may be on to something.
What is the difference between eating at a restaurant alone with my husband and eating late night cereal on the couch with my husband after the kids have gone asleep? In some ways these are very different activities but in other ways they are quite similar. At home there is no one serving us, we don’t sample new food and we don’t get dressed up. We are, however, alone and eating together. Sitting on the couch eating cereal together is like a mini-date at the restaurant, except without the fanciness and the fresh air that new surroundings bring. And not nearly enough candlelight.
Some mini-dates I’ve had with my husband recently:
- We walked outside and looked at the stars on a clear, warm night. We brought one large glass of wine (to save on dishes) and shared it.
- We spent the evening side-by-side typing on our computers.
- Every night for years we have ended the day by sitting on opposite ends of the couch and massaging each other’s feet.
- We worked in the garden side-by-side.
- We held hands in church while our children sat in the pew in front of us with family friends.
- We cared for our children together.
Perhaps the last one – caring for our children together – is the most romantic mini-date of all. All the candlelight in the world can’t top it.