We went out to dinner last Monday night to celebrate our 13 years of marriage. We took the kids with us, because you can’t really get a babysitter on a school night.
I know. Romantic, right? Don’t feel too sorry for us. We were able to go out alone the weekend before and celebrate without the boys.
We drove 45 minutes north to go to a restaurant that we’ve been eating at since we were dating years ago. I think it’s the first place Dave ever took me that didn’t serve their food in paper wrappers.
I remember the first time we ate there. It was mid-evening, around 7 p.m. The lights in the Italian restaurant were low, and musicians strolled the restaurant playing violins and serenading dinners. We lingered over our meal holding hands across the table, and starring lovingly into eachother’s eyes.
That was Then.
How different it was last Monday!
We arrived early, at 4:30 in the afternoon. We figure the earlier we get to a restaurant with our motley crew the less people there are for us to disturb.The lights weren’t lowered, there weren’t any strolling musicians. There was only the sound of Wade who was fussing, screaming and refusing to sit in the high chair. There was no hand-holding or starring into eachother’s eyes as we tried to quiet Wade, and get David to eat instead of play with his straw.
Wade’s mood worsened, and eventually I ended up in the lobby with him while the other guys finished eating.
We went home, and I took my mostly uneaten dinner with me in a dogggie bag.
The boys played until bedtime, wrestling and running around. Then David and Wade sat down with me for a bedtime story. No sooner did I open the book then, “bleeeeeeh!” Wade threw up. All over himself. All over me. All over the couch. All over the floor. Then again, “bleeeeeeh,” in the hallway before I could get him to his changing table to clean him up.
Wade threw up a few more times that night, and I laid on the couch with him until he finally fell asleep around 11 o’clock.
On our wedding day 13 years ago I certainly didn’t dream of spending our anniversary with cranky kids, and ending it covered in vomit. I did dream of spending it with Dave, and he was there.
Holding squirming Wade. Admonishing David to stop banging his fork on his glass. Cleaning up puke right along side me.
This is Now.
And Now is good.