Today is our 7th wedding anniversary. A week ago, I was thrilled that we had actually managed to line up a real live babysitter. For the first time in 7 years, I had visions of nice restaurants with real tablecloths and soft lighting. Fast forward to this week when the babysitter, inevitably, had to cancel. I admit it, I was pretty bummed at first. There would be no uninterrupted eye-gazing, which, in all fairness, usually makes me ask my husband if I have something stuck in my teeth anyway. But I was looking forward to trying. And that sexy skirt and lowcut shirt won't get to come out to play for fear our dinner conversation will become something like this:
5-year-old daughter, "You should pull your shirt up mom. We can see your breasts."
12-year-old son, covering ears because she said the B word, "MOM!!!! Make her stop!"
5-year-old daughter, laughing, "What? They're funny. You should see them!"
At which point, the romance will be officially dead at the table. (No conjecture here, by the way. Slight adaptation of a real conversation.)
So it's on to Plan B for us. After some thought, we decided to keep the dinner plans but move it to a nice Mexican restaurant that has great food but still is kid-friendly. After that, my husband is going to demonstrate his deep and abiding love for me by doing something he would never do for anything less than love: scrapbooking. Yup! I STILL, seven years later, have an unfinished scrapbook I started making of our wedding photos. So tonight we're going to come home, drag out the scissors and glue, and revisit our memories together. Granted, my husband will probably be more company than crafter, but what more could a woman ask for than the good company of a great man while she's knee-deep in pretty paper and flashy stickers? And as a bonus, instead of just watching mom and dad go out, our kids will be part of celebrating our marriage.
Besides, eventually they'll go to bed, and I can break out the sexy.