For the first time since she was born, both my husband and I went out of the apartment and did something. At the same time. Together. It was kind of weird.
Owing to the weekend visit of an obliging grandmother, we decided to take a couple hours right after my husband got dinner ready and go out and do “something.” We couldn’t really think of what, but damn it, we were going to do it. And I was going to wear some freaking high heels.
Right after we left, my husband remarked that it felt like we’d left something important at home. I really know that feeling because any time I go out without my daughter, I feel completely like I’m off the grid.
We ended up drinking wine and eating Portugese cheeses and beignets. It was nice. I kept my glass at the edge of the table all night just because I could. Nothing was dropped on the floor, nothing was dripped on my shirt, no one said “please don’t spit that out.”
It was pleasant, slightly surreal, and very overdue. We talked about our daughter nearly the entire time, even with the waiter. And when we got home, she could acted like we’d been there the whole time.
As it should be.
