Six months after baby #2, we were having our first date night away from the kids. Our overnight bag was packed and I was on my way to pick up hubby from work.
I drove away from my household with grandma carrying Baby M on her hip and grandpa reading Toddler a book whilst she makes a fort out of the dozen burpers and blankets I had just nicely folded and will surely stay unfolded until I am cursing the world looking for them at some later date.
For the next 20 minutes I had to convince myself half a dozen times that I hadn’t forgotten the baby somewhere. And that it was okay to turn the volume up on the radio because I didn’t have those delicate little eardrums in the backseat.
My identity gets a little stripped away when I don’t have kids hanging off me. Especially on maternity leave and while breastfeeding, baby is almost never out of my sight. They are an extension of me for quite some time.
Without my little humans, without the seemingly 50lb stroller and almost equally heavy diaper bag, I feel a little light. Not just physically.
It’s a little freeing. To walk down the street with hubby, just like we used to. Pointing here or there at various things within view that we usually overlook. Casually talking about where we will go for dinner, but not worrying about the time. Oh gawd, not the time. We aren’t worried about the time tonight. There’s no dinner time, no bath time, no story time, no bed time. Just our time.
And it was glorious.
We talked about our travels before kids, the hubby and I. We planned our future over those plates of overly expensive but exquisitely delicious entrees. Wine was had. I could make four entire meals for the cost of that bottle of wine. But oh, was she a good one.
We basked in the opportunity to just watch other people walk by. Commenting on this or that and enjoying that we could both hear each other and say several full sentences without being interrupted. It was a quiet appreciation of listening only to each other.
Back at my parent’s apartment where we were staying for the night. We anticipate a completely amazing and utterly satisfying, full nights sleep. And a morning that doesn’t begin at 5am sharp.
We’d sleep so well, they said.
All of a sudden, it was 4am and I hadn’t slept a wink.
It was literally the hottest day of the summer. Or at least it felt like it. I was sweating and overheated and could not sleep no matter what I did. And when I couldn’t sleep, I started thinking of the kids. Was the baby sleeping? Was she crying? What if something happened to them? Did they miss us too much? Are we damaging their brains by being away?
I slept better when I had a newborn.
I woke up a couple hours later by a massive, massive, boob. (sorry, TMI). I had pumped the night before. But obviously baby does a better job because my boobs were screaming at me and resembled quite a large boob job.
I cursed the entire universe and dragged myself out of bed to pump.
No full nights sleep.
No sleep in.
We drive home. Happy with our night out together. Completely devastated by the lack of sleep.
Getting home is sure fun though. Little N comes in for a big hug and a smile so wide! She giggles when I pick her up like we haven’t seen each other in weeks. Then starts talking random gibberish. Turning to Baby M next, I can see all of her gums as she smiles so hard it looks like her cheeks will pop. She clings on like a koala bear and digs her nails into me. It hurts so so good.