Tuesday, October 11, 2011


Last night G and I headed to one of our favorite little restaurants for a dinner raising money for a group who is putting as many gardens in at as many schools as possible, and teaching the kids in this city about growing food, where their food comes from.  So, when the cost was more than it was supposed to be, and the food was so-so, we laughed and said at least it was for an excellent cause.  It helps that our waitress when she brought dessert complied with my "please put a huge wallop of whipped cream on top." 

The thing is, these dinners out?  Well, they're winding down.  Soon we'll be nestled snuggly in bed with a little one and that sort of freaks me out.  Because I still totally forget I'm pregnant more often than I think is normal, and can be found to stop in the middle of a store when I catch sight of myself because it actually startles me.  So I was all, "let's go out and have a nice dinner with a glass of wine."  But the conversation?  G started out and I smiled and he asked what on earth I had that grin for and I said, "Because she's not even here and our dinners already consist of talking about her." 

And he looked at me and got that whole, "Wait, stop, reverse that" sense and we continued on with normal grown-up conversation.  We each had a glass of red wine, and I kept waiting for some fool to say something to me because G was seriously prepared to lecture (he said something about punching them, but as I don't think my husband has ever thrown a punch in his life, I'm pretty sure the person would have been safe).  And the time was great, and then we came home and had rootbeers instead of coffee while we played scrabble on the iPad and then both passed out by midnight, even though we'd totally slept in that morning (which usually means we're up late). 

We had spent the afternoon building 3 bookcases from IKEA, which were delightfully simple and we kept high fiving because the last bookcase we ever built was in our first year of marriage and at one point I had threatened to throw the hammer at him.  So this time, the simplicity was fantastic and we laughed and danced about the room while music played. 

And these are the days.  My last quiet mornings to myself.  The last month (or so) of getting up and just having to fix one adult breakfast and not having to worry about juggling a tiny little thing too.  So we're super busy, but we're laughing and cuddling because we know that she is going to flip our world upside down, so having it even semi-upright is being enjoyed.  Our little family of 2 is blissful...which is how a long weekend really should feel.

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