It was my birthday last week and in comparison to birthdays of recent years it didn’t feel like a birthday. It felt like a normal day, involving a trip to visit my mum, who kindly made a cake that we didn’t even get to eat. Why didn’t we get to eat it? Because Mr Firstooth thought ‘when’s best to book our daughters injections?’ ponders ‘Ah! Your birthday!’. It didn’t quite happen like that, but it put an instant downer on the day, dreading the event to follow in the afternoon.
The babys injections went incredibly well, much less traumatic than our sons last year. Tears from everyone involved that day!
The plan for the evening was a birthday takeaway, again, nothing out of the norm here, it’s a Friday and that means a takeaway of some sort to round off the week. I don’t mind so much that birthdays are pretty dull in comparison to the years we could go out and celebrate, get drunk and roll in at an unsightly hour (an hour we see now for child related reasons). It’s a gift that I have two wonderful children and really, I could pop here and there with them, even if it takes 3 hours and a lot of willpower to actually leave the house. What I do mind is that, on my birthday, both children decided to be as difficult as possible, all evening and throughout the shitting night.
The plan was to ditch the kids with my in-laws for the day on Saturday and spend a day romantically walking into town, hand in hand, eating a meal with actual adult conversation, without shovelling our plates of food in, whilst simultaneously juggling children who JUST WON’T SIT STILL.
Because that Friday night both children decided to stay awake until 4am. I felt less than festive. In fact, I felt rather fucking angry.
I felt angry that whenever we seem to make plans, exciting ones that involve something adult like, at least one child will refuse to sleep all night (and behave unreasonably because of it), it’s no bother to them due to the comfortable naps they are able to have, not at the same time though, obviously. The thought of trapesing around town, during the Christmas rush, while holding my eyelids open with matchsticks, made me want to cry. That night I declared ‘we’re not going out tomorrow’ in similar words and perhaps a little more sweary.
The morning of said ‘planned but cancelled day out’ came and Mr Firstooth got up with the children and let me lay in. Huge brownie points to him! He was still hoping for a day out. He was looking firwsrd to it. He wasn’t affected (much) by the painful night of tears. It made me feel quite depressive that the odd awful night we have, ruins the next day not just for me, but for him.
So, I applied a fistful of under-eye concealer, squeezed into my ‘lift and slim’ jeans (lol) and blow-dried my hair (yes, I even managed a shower!). The cancelled day out was now back on!
We dropped the children at my in-laws, the toddler didn’t even know we had left but the baby cried a heartbreaking cry, which stopped the moment I was out of sight, crafty kid. Then we skipped hand in hand down the road and into town, without the bloody suitcase style nappy bag, I had a real non-mumsy shoulder bag. Remember when we used to leave with only our keys, phone and purse?
We browsed the shops, without the stroller knocking over displays and tackling the crowds. It was amazing how freeing it felt to spend a day as a couple. I love our family days out, but there’s no sugar coating the stress and the immense forward planning that comes with them. We had no stress or worry to carry around with us.
I won’t bore you with every lovely little detail but I will share two parts of the day we enjoyed, which usually we wouldn’t even attempt if children were present.
- I tried clothes on. I don’t mean a couple of bits here and there, I mean rackfuls of the stuff! I appreciate the purpose of trying things on now, some things do look better on the hanger, lucky bastard hanger. I actually walked out of the shop with a few new outfits, instead of sweating and dumping a pile of clothes on a shelf, before storming out to calm a bored baby.
I couldn’t walk past the children’s section of the shops without rooting through, I’ve been programmed to do this.
- We enjoyed a THREE COURSE BLOODY MEAL for over TWO WHOLE BLOODY HOURS. We laughed a lot and talked a lot more, our attention was solely on eachother and we’ve so needed this for such a long time. We reconnected, it was pretty special.
I thoroughly enjoyed our day free of the children, with birthday shopping and a delicious, long and dare I say romantic meal. The children enjoyed a day being spoilt by their grandparents. It’s made us realise how important days like this are for us as a couple and we’ve now vowed to do this once a month, maybe it was the wine talking, but I hope we stick to our promise and have another date next month.
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