Hot Tub for the Soul
“So, do you guys have date nights?”
No. No we do not.
Ha. Wait – what?
“Night at a hotel?”
I answer these questions with confidence as Kris and I like the bed we made. We hope to one day lie in it together, alone and in a semi-conscious state.
These are the number one reason why we don’t have date nights:
Not the baby – that slammin’ rack behind the baby. My boobs.
Before Arlo, I had no idea the commitment Exclusive Breastfeeding (EBF) would require. My body alone would provide sustenance to my infant. No pumping. No bottle. Not hungry? Doesn’t matter because breast becomes more than calories. No pacifier. No lovey. Breast is everything and I have the breasts. Baby and I are dyad. Then, sure, around six months baby can start solids but . . . why would he? Arlo treated this period as a taste test only and continued breastfeeding all day and all night. We did not have date nights. By the time he was actually eating he was still waking every three hours. For me. For milk. Or for whatever was important to him that only I could provide. By the time he slept through the night we were traveling for IVFs and then we moved. We did not take weekend getaways. Madison brought more IVFs and the position of being strangers in a strange land all over again. Farrah arrives and the process begins again.
Fours years is a long time though and to be honest, when I’m asked about our date nights sometimes my confidence is shaken. People stir. Lately I’ve got a new answer though and that is: “We have a date night every night, in our backyard, in the hot tub.”
I’m talked about the nuts and bolts of this recent home improvement over at Temple Techbuilt but what I can tell you here at the softer BPS is that we finally found our adults-only space that acknowledges our entire family’s needs. Sure Arlo gets in from time to time but Kris and I are in there almost nightly, together, alone and in a semi-conscious state. Date Night. No screens, no kids, no hurry. What do we talk about? Next year’s preschool registration. That dimple. How exhausted we are. Arlo still saying “lello” instead of “yellow”. The weather. How much we love the hot tub.
Extreme perhaps and while not intended as conduit to a full identity retrieval – we just thought it would be awesome in the Wisconsin winter – the hot tub has worked out that way. And it is awesome.
Now, won’t you join us for some spiced lamb shank in the hot tub? Hmmmnnn, Love-ah?