Last month Mr. Roller Coaster and I attempted to go out on a date night. However, it ended up in the toilet. Literally. I spent our romantic night trapped in a hotel room listening to him vomit out a stomach bug.
Since we’re long overdue for a night out, I booked a baby-sitter shortly after returning from our Christmas vacation. Saturday night was our big night out. But the date was doomed before it even started.
During date night prep, my job is to book the sitter. Mr. Roller Coaster’s job is to book the dinner reservations. By the time Wednesday night rolled around, I assumed he had taken care of his end of the deal. I was mistaken. Time for an e-minder. Subject line: MAKE DINNER RESERVATIONS FOR 6:30!!!
Hours later I received a reply to said email sharing the news that we had dinner reservations at 5:00 at fill-in-the-blank cool local restaurant, despite the fact that we had a long conversation the previous night about how the sitter wasn’t arriving until 6:00 because Mr. Roller Coaster would be at a birthday party with Little C until after 6:00. He attempted to call the restaurant back and take the 6:45 block that had also been offered to him, but by then it was taken.
That was Thursday. On Friday, Mr. Roller Coaster, who couldn’t find a single nice restaurant that had reservations available, informed me that a buddy would be spending a couple of nights with us. Starting Saturday. Attach 3rd wheel.
To top it all off, the night ended with a busted lip. I was walking Big C back to bed after taking him to the bathroom when he tripped and fell, landing directly on his mouth. Blood pooled inside his mouth as he screamed and I tried to figure out where the blood was coming from. After ice, ibuprofen, and some TLC, I finally cuddled Big C back to sleep with a loose baby tooth that was even looser and a very fat lip.
At least the night was an improvement over our last attempt at date night. (Honestly, I don’t think it could get much worse than vomit.) It wasn’t exactly seeping with romance, but I really shouldn’t complain too much. After several attempts, the 3 of us found a place to eat. Although I would have preferred to spend a rare dinner without my kids at a restaurant that didn’t have booths filled with other people’s kids, the food was delicious. Although I got my fill of boy talk, it really was nice catching up with an old friend we haven’t seen in years. And although I couldn’t hear anything over the din of screaming football fans in the sports bar we stopped in at for after dinner drinks, it was fun going out on the town again.
So our 2nd attempt at a date night in less than a month was better than the first, but hardly ideal. Let’s hope our next attempt will include no vomit, no restaurant waiting lists, no third party, no children, no boy talk, no screaming drunk people, and no busted lips. And maybe we’ll stay out past 9:00 PM.
Third time’s a charm right?
What was your worst date night?