As I reflect on the past five years, I realize that my partner, Mark, and I have only been out on five proper dates since the birth of our eldest child, Leo. This is roughly equivalent to the number of fingers on one hand. While there have been occasions when we’ve ventured out, those outings often felt more like brief respites than genuine date nights.
We’ve indulged in a few hours at the movies, a luxury made possible when my mom took care of Leo while he napped. However, we strictly limited ourselves to Oscar-nominated films—after all, anything less felt like a waste of our precious time.
Then there’s our so-called “fancy lunch” outings. These experiences involve visiting upscale restaurants with dim lighting and local art adorning the walls. We would savor three courses and sip wine, all while pretending it was dinner. Unfortunately, the charm faded as we stepped back into the bright afternoon sun, returning home to resume our parenting duties—cooking dinner and reading bedtime stories. All I wanted was to collapse into bed with a painkiller.
Our limited dating life wasn’t due to negligence or lack of interest, but rather the intense demands of parenthood. For the first two years after Leo’s birth, going out was simply not an option. Born prematurely at thirty weeks, he came home after a three-month stay in the NICU with a tracheotomy, suction machine, and oxygen monitor. Handing over care to a babysitter wasn’t feasible. I often questioned my own ability to care for him, as I was just a high school English teacher, far from a medical professional. Despite my initial trepidation, I adapted, and I look back fondly on those rare evenings we managed to escape, even if only for a short while.
It was only after two years when he no longer needed the trach that we dared to have a night out. We entrusted my mom with Leo, relieved to trade monitors and tubes for a relaxing evening at a vineyard, where we enjoyed wine under the stars.
Then we found out we were expecting twins. Suddenly, even Grandma struggled to care for a newborn duo along with a medically fragile toddler. Leo was still dependent on me for feeding, and thus our “dates” turned into long walks around the block between feedings and diaper changes. While therapeutic, these strolls weren’t exactly conducive to bonding.
One evening, as we shared a makeshift dinner of peanut butter and jelly while the TV flickered in the background, I noticed Mark’s beard had turned completely gray. When had that happened? I hadn’t truly looked at him in ages. “Hey,” I said, nudging him with my foot. “We need to get out—just the two of us. In real clothes. After dark. For at least two hours.”
Saying it out loud made it feel like a real plan. The kids were older now, and I was becoming more adept at managing our unique challenges. Recognizing the importance of prioritizing our relationship, I reached out discreetly through social media, seeking babysitting recommendations. Eventually, I found a fantastic caregiver from Leo’s preschool. With her help, we could finally escape the house regularly.
Now, we manage to have a night out about once a month. That may not seem like much, but it’s a significant increase from our previous average of once every year.
Just last week, we attended a wedding, which turned out to be the perfect date night—free food, drinks, dancing, and cake. Even though it’s been a decade since my own wedding, I found myself dancing harder than anyone else on the floor. We’ve earned every moment.
In summary, while our journey through parenting has been challenging, we have learned the value of making time for each other, despite the hurdles. It’s crucial to prioritize our relationship amidst the chaos of parenting. By taking small steps, we’ve managed to reclaim some of our quality time together.
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