Sunday, 15 July 2012

Date Nights

First things first. The blog is going to take on a slightly new feel with much shorter (hold on, I can hear the champagne corks popping from here) theme based posts rather than age based ones. I kept thinking about things I wanted to blog about and then by the time I had reached the next big age milestone, I had forgotten what all those things were and ended up writing posts that were, well, sub-standard really and then a few days later thinking, oh, why didn't I write about this, or why didn't I write about that?

From now on, I'm just going to write about it when I think about something I want to blog about and because I will be drawing a conclusion to the tome-like posts I have previously bestowed upon you, I don't have to put aside 2 - 3 hours to write the post, you don't have to put aside half an hour to read it and well, I think it is what those management consultancy fuckbubbles folk would call a win-win situation.

I have blogged before about the battering your relationship takes as a new Mummy or Daddy. The battering appears to vary significantly but be fairly consistently related to and in proportion to how blessed you are with your new addition on the sleeping front. I can't stress enough how the lack of sleep takes its toll (and the utter relentlessness of it) and there is no doubt that Ron and I were far from the frankly fairly amazing place we were in our relationship when we first met and until I got pregnant really (that's when hormonal scary Nat first started appearing and probably became progessively more prevalent until recently when our little sack of spuds started to sleep a little bit better at night-time - although I know I'm still a way from my former self still).

It has long been my goal, well before the little man came along, to make sure that Ron and I always had time for each other, that we always made a special effort to nurture our relationship with each other, as well as our relationship with our son because it's just so incredibly easy as new parents to get caught up in the focus of this tiny but terribly energy sapping bundle of joy and just carry on doing that until you get to a place a few years down the line when you realise that you don't really know your partner at all anymore. I've seen it happen and it would have been devastating to me to lose the very special relationship I have with Ron or even to lose parts of it and I always knew that this would, at times, take a lot of hard work and effort.

So, the concept of date nights have always been very important to me. It's funny actually how much more precious they become when you are to all intents and purposes imprisoned in your own home from 6pm onwards (when the bedtime routine starts) and things like just popping out to the local for a quick drink, something Ron and I used to do several evenings a week, seem like such a distant memory and unattainable treat.

I managed to find a babysitter from the local children's centre who I trust enough to leave the most precious thing in the world to me in her care for a few short hours and I always knew the nights out would be hit and miss depending on whether the boy woke up or not while we were out but I want to be persistent with this one as it would be so easy to say, he'll probably just wake up and cry when he sees a complete stranger so let's not bother trying to go out for now and just keep doing that forever.

The last date night was a bit of a disaster all round really. Both of us were absolutely shattered for one reason or another, I found myself saying those fateful words halfway through the evening "Let's just please try to enjoy ourselves" (the evening is normally doomed when it has got to that stage) and then the babysitter called to cut our evening short suggesting it might be a good idea if we returned home. We returned to a hysterical little man who wasn't best pleased at the complete stranger in his nursery when he was expecting Mummy or Daddy (and why would he be)? And, well, it was a night not to remember.

Last night, however, apprehensive, we tried again, and thank goodness, the boy didn't wake up while we were out (which is more his normal behaviour if there is such a think) and for the first time in a really long time, Ron and I were able to go out and really enjoy ourselves as a couple again. It felt like the old us, and I felt like the old me (probably just because I was drunk and I quite like the drunk me - much more relaxed generally!) and it was lovely. We talked about a lot of the things that we have both been through over the past 6 months since the little man was born and we talked about a lot of other things in our past that we didn't know about each other yet and it was very special to feel like just me again, rather than a Mummy, for a moment and just enjoy the wonderful person who helped me make the very special little chunk muffin we have been blessed with.

We snuggled up in bed for the first time in a really long time (for a long time after giving birth, a lot of ladies don't feel at all sexual for all sorts of reason and I know the idea of anyone touching my body for a while was not a pleasant one), chatted some more (I explained why I don't go to bed naked anymore as waking up in a pool of your own boob juice is less than desirable) and as we lay there spoonfully cuddling for hours, forgetting that we would probably be woken at any time by our little man, one question just kept repeating in my head over and over - "Would this be an inappropriate time to fart?"

Anyway, apart from that little indiscretion, date night was a success. And here's to many more.

No comments:

Post a Comment