I think I am going through some early, VERY EARLY, mid-life blahs. I have been thinking a bit more often of the days when Greg and I could just pick up and go somewhere without worrying about anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I cherish and adore our children, more than I ever thought humanly possible. I’m a stay-at-home-mom, of course I’m salivating for some let-your-hair-down (me, not Greg), kick up your heels, let loose adult time. And I occasionally miss those days of old where something like going out to eat didn’t involve picking a restaurant that had an openly inviting and tolerant policy toward their younger patrons. Ones that don’t frown upon the occasional scream or food flinging. Ones that understand that just as much food makes it into a little one’s mouth as it does onto the floor. If you’re lucky. One that has macaroni and cheese on the menu. Like Red Robin. Or Red Robin. Then there’s always our family favorite, Red Robin. Our kids aren’t quite to the age of appreciating the artistry of something like say, oh fine sushi. Yeah, I could see it now… Me begging and pleading with the kids to take just ONE bite of that utterly mouth-watering and scrumptious long roll. Bribing them with dessert. No? How about a new four-wheeler? Greg asking and then telling them for the two hundredth time to GET OFF OF THE FLOOR! GET OUT FROM UNDER THE TABLE! Greg and I strategically avoiding the stares of everyone else in the restaurant as they look over toward our fresh fish train wreck. Yeah. Not so much.
Last night after the kids were asleep, Greg started to scan some of his old negatives and came up with some doozies of us in our crazy, younger days. As we laughed about who we were back then, I confessed my longing for a cigarette, errr, I mean more adult time with him. Our conversation went something like this:
Me: I miss those old days.
Me: No, I love our life together. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just I think we need to get out more. Do stuff before we’re too damn old to even want to go out.
The timing of what happened next could not have been planned better if we had tried. Just as that last word passionately rolled off my tongue, out of a deep slumber, Emily screams out, “No! No! No no no no no! No! No! No no no no! No!”
OK, Em. No sushi for you. Not yet.
It’s true. We may not have fine dining experiences with them right now, but I know we will be able to do all those fun outings again one day when they are older and can appreciate them. Not to mention, behave, sit still, not crawl under the table, and get more food into their mouths than onto the floor. Sure, we may only get sushi when we PLAN AHEAD and enlist the babysitting help of a family member, but we sure do have a house full of laughter. Thanks for the laugh AND the reality check, Emily.