Dating The Spouse

originally published in Tribe Magazine

I remember going on dates. I used to quite enjoy a night out with an attractive member of the opposite sex, back in the days when I was footloose and fancy free (so long ago, indeed, that “footloose and fancy free” was actually a contemporary saying).

Still, being married with kids doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy a good date. I can and I do. It’s just that, these days, the dates I usually enjoy are the plump, sweet, fruit variety as opposed to romantic evenings out.

However, the news is not all bad. I do still occasionally have dates of the romantic kind (and yes, for those who are wondering, they are generally with my husband). It’s very important to have special time regularly with your partner, in order to keep the magic alive. After all, you don’t want to spend your entire lives together shouting to each other over the heads and voices of your children, across plates of fish fingers, bowls of jelly, and assorted cups of milk.

And it is possible to incorporate a regular date night into your marital routine. If you’re in any doubt, just look at Brad and Angelina. They’re forever being photographed out and about, having glamorous child free time, despite their 157 children. Okay, so they have an entourage of nannies, assistants, makeup artists and so on to plan and execute the event, but that doesn’t mean that we mere mortals can’t do it too, right?

Well… yes and no.

The hardest part for most of us when it comes to going on a date is organising child care. Of course, some people are lucky enough to have parents or in-laws who live nearby and are happy to babysit. However, for those of us with no family nearby, or whose parents, like mine, selfishly choose to go on dates with each other instead of babysitting the grandchildren, we need to find paid help.

Yes, we need a babysitter.

Now, the babysitter is not easy to find. She needs to be responsible, reliable, mature, able to manage your children, and unlikely to have sex with her own romantic partner on your bed. She needs to be old enough to confidently deal with a crisis, young enough to need the income, and friendly enough to engage your kids, yet not friendly enough to actually have friends who want to party with her on a Saturday night.

Still, securing a babysitter (an achievement, one might argue, on a par with creating life in your womb) only gets you halfway there. There is still the question of getting ready for your date.

Now, getting dressed and made-up is fun when you’re alone in front of a mirror with perfume and cosmetics. Getting dressed and made-up with one child attached to your leg, as another refuses to finish his sausage and a third begs you tearfully not to leave – well, this is not quite as fun.

Even once you are dressed and ready, the battle is not yet over. You see, the real challenge of Date Night isn’t leaving the house looking fabulous. The real challenge of Date Night is to leave the house full stop – at least in time to make the movie, party or dinner reservation. There are the kids to peel off your leg, instructions to impart to the babysitter, bits of sausage to sponge off your top, and the car key to find (a challenge in itself in a home with more than one person).

Most significantly, there is energy to summon to make the whole thing seem worthwhile. After all, after a long day (week / month / year) with the kids, the most appealing option on a free Saturday night is generally not a movie, or dinner, or even a party. It’s sleep.

Yes, often on a Date Night - when the babysitter has been booked, the reservations made, the children notified and the emergency numbers taped to the fridge – the primary sensation one feels is not excitement, nor pleasure, nor even a mild sense of anticipation. No, the primary sensation one frequently feels is exhaustion.

Many is the time I have contemplated a night out with my husband – say, a movie followed by dinner followed by ice cream on the way home – not with the thrill I would have felt pre-parenthood, but with dismay verging on panic at the prospect of staying up beyond my bedtime (which these days is approximately three minutes after the children fall asleep).

Thing is, no matter how enjoyable the evening – how interesting the movie, how delicious the meal, how deeply my husband and I connected over a couple of bottles of West Coast Cooler - I know I’m going to suffer for it the next day. My kids will wake me as usual at the crack of dawn, having no respect for my need to stay up late to eat, drink, be merry, and bond with their father.

And then there’s the problem of pressure. You see, the less the opportunity one has to venture out alone with one’s spouse, the more pressure there is to make each precious date a good one. Furthermore, by the time you add babysitting costs into the equation, dates with your spouse can be incredibly expensive.

This can lead to the evening having one of a number of consequences. It can be a) a roaring success, as you are both determined to get the maximum enjoyment from each second (and the maximum value from each dollar); b) a bit of a letdown, as the night can’t possibly meet your tremendous expectations; or c) an utter disaster, as you both get so tense from the burden of having to have a sensational night that you end up arguing bitterly before you even get out of the car (not that this has ever happened to me… I’m just… you know… speculating...).

Still, no matter what the challenges are, it’s important to keep Date Night alive. For one thing, every parent needs the opportunity to have some time away from their kids, to remember who they are, aside from just a mother or father. And every spouse needs the chance to remember what they love about their partner, apart from their amazing ability to coerce toddlers into eating veggies, or their astonishing proficiency with a lice comb.

Most importantly, every human being has the right to right to occasionally eat a meal they haven’t cooked themselves, in the presence of other adults, without the need to clean up afterwards.

Just make sure you get all the little bits of sausage off your top before you leave the house.

And for God’s sake don’t waste all your time talking about the kids.

Online Poll - Is Kerri's Husband Gay?

1. He does not drink beer. He drinks Bacardi Breezers, West Coast Coolers, and cocktails with names like Sunset On The Beach and Kiss Me Sweetly.
2. He does all his own shopping, spends hours looking for the perfect shirt, and likes to think of himself as having a 'style'.
3. He is a architect who is married with children. Architects who are married with children are notorious for leading a secretly gay double life. Just think of Mike Brady.
4. When something is really funny, he giggles.
5. When he drinks juice at home, he adds chopped up strawberries to make a fruit cocktail.
6. He has a crush on Vin Diesel.
7. He does not enjoy football or rugby. He does, however, love watching the Tour de France. You know, that bike race where the men wear really tight shorts....
8. He wears turtleneck sweaters under suits.
9. He used to drive an MX5. A red one.
10. His favourite dessert is chocolate mousse which he eats with a teensy, weensy spoon.
11. He considers the plating of food to be as important as the taste.
12. He wears a lady's watch. He says this is because he has a small wrist.

On the other hand:

1. He wants to have sex with me all the time.
2. No... that's about it, really.

Thoughts???

Roughing It For Freedom (or Holidays With Nana)

So here I am at House Basic on the coast. I don't enjoy camping (using 'don't enjoy' in the sense of 'look at people who do it and scream internally "Why, for the love of god, WHY????"') so this is the closest I get to roughing it.

And it's rough. There is no internet access (or at least there wasn't until I discovered wireless broadband), no Foxtel (which hurts ), and the TV has actual knobs and an aerial. We go for walks in the park, read books, and play parlour games. It's like living in Jane Austen's England, only very slightly more advanced.

Still, it's a place of great serenity, with a lovely view, and lots of wildlife. Bush turkeys wander round, giant spiders crawl the walls, and rodents scamper across the floor. They leave their cute little mouse droppings everywhere, including inside the traps we leave for them (but only after cleverly removing the bits of cheese).

Still, despite the tremendous physical hardships, it's fantastically relaxing being here with my mum and the kids. For one thing, I get to eat vegemite toast every night for dinner while the kids eat pasta (and my husband back home is on his fifth night of pizza).

For another thing, I stop being a parent.

Yes, when I am staying with my mum, I forget I have children. No, I don't forget my kids exist - their volume renders that impossible - but I forget that they are mine. And so does my mum.

Yes, Nana asks them what they want for dinner and cooks it, reminds them to put their jackets on, and tells them to brush their teeth. She picks up their wet towels from the floor, washes their clothes, and rescues Toddler when she gets too close to the stove. I, on the other hand, doze on the couch, lifting my head only to kiss one of my kids goodnight when they are presented to me, clean and shiny after the bath that Nana gave them.

So complete is the role reversal that, on one memorable occasion when popping out to the shops Mum asked me "Will you be okay with them while I'm gone?"

So thanks for the holiday, Mum. I'll put up with the rodents, and the spiders, and even the aerial. Freedom (from kids) comes at a price, and I am more than willing to pay.

Oh, yes, and a cup of tea would be lovely! Thanks...

What Does It For Me

The gorgeous Lexi from pottymouthmama tagged me with a Happiness Thingy. I name 6 things that make me happy, then tag 6 blogs I love.
Sounds good to me. So here goes:

• My toddler's irresistably cute bum. I've seen it every single day for 19 months, but it never fails to make me smile. Of course, it would make me smile even more to see it clothed in undies as opposed to a nappy, but that's another story.
• Nutella. The taste of the inside of a Ferrero Rocher, but with all the goodness of skim milk and hazelnuts (note: no mention of 'chocolate' on the jar). AND able to be eaten by the spoonful. What's not to love?
• Watching my 8 year old be a 'kissing monster' with her 10 year old brother as the prey. Divine.
• My Simon Baker screen saver. (Having him actually jump out of the computer would make me even happier, but unlikely at this stage.)
• Finding the earring my toddler had pinched without having to search through her nappy. A tremendous relief. Now if only I could locate my deodorant, last seen in the hand of a 19 month old with a cute bum....
• Putting polish on my fingernails. After biting them for most of my life (too long a life to still be biting my nails) I have finally stopped. Permanently this time. Really. Stop rolling your eyes! I mean it!

Blogs I love:

• Spiritual Advice From The Purple Mongoose - must be seen to be believed
• You Might Want To Sit Down For This - smartest/funniest guy I know
• Sleepless Nights - very cheeky funny mummy
• Waffling Along - brand new & looks fab
• MummyTime - mummy reflections
• Not Drowning, Mothering - funny funny stuff

ENJOY