For our anniversary, my wife and I went out to dinner, just as we had done so many times before a stork driving a Uhaul showed up at our house and unloaded a box truck worth of kids toys, clothes, furniture, bottles (both wine and baby), and other various items into our living room. After securing a baby sitter (thanks guys), we hopped in the car and hit the riverfront for some brick oven pizza and one, maybe two locally brewed beers. Just another reason I love my wife.
It was over crab dip and pita chips that I first peeked at my phone, positioned stealthily on the bench under the table. No missed calls. Okay. Maybe grandma and grandpa haven’t burned the house down. It was 6:14, normally the time that my son passes out in my arms on the rocking chair. I’m a creature of habit, and being out after work without my son was no longer habitual.
But I’m told this is healthy, the getting out and all. I’m told that we need to spend time together as adults. I smiled at my lovely wife, and took this picture. That way she couldn’t bust me looking at pictures of our son. We marveled at how the time has flown by. Two years already. And our son is going on 7 months. How did this happen? Well, I know how he happened, but the time, it’s flying…
I ran into a friend and said hello. And then another thing happened. I became one of those people… It’s our anniversary. First time away from out son. I love him by the way, my son. The other day he was in his jumper and I started jumping and he just thought that was the funniest….
“Wait, where’d he go?” I asked, coming out of my gush fest.
“He wandered off when you were going on about how soft Simon’s feet are…”
We had a good time enjoying each other’s company. And we had a whole conversation about topics other than diapers or nuks or breast milk. We may have touched on breast milk, but still. As we were leaving, we noticed a mother with her child and I was struck once again by thoughts of our son. I could tell that my wife was doing it too.
We climbed into the car. She mentioned getting into pajamas and I said something to the effect of us being losers.
“I like being a loser with you.” My wife said, and for a second I forgot about my son and enjoyed the moment with her.
Me too honey.