It was time.
We made the reservations, booked Mike's mom as a sitter, gave kisses good-bye, and (cue the fireworks) spent my first night away from Sophie and Michael.
Mike has been on numberous overnight trips for work since April 2010, but every day of Michael and Sophie's lives has ended with me settling them into their cribs and has begun again with me lifting them back out, nuzzling their sleepy necks. That is, until recently.
My first night away was essentially a 12-hour vacation in downtown Detroit. While to some that might sound less than appealing, take a look at where we had drinks, ate dinner, and crashed. There were a lot of options, but we went with some classics.
Mike and I ate at the Whitney a number of years ago when we paid off $20k in credit card debt--an accumulation of wedding, honeymoon, and new home expenses, along with some general foolishness. After one tough year on a crazy tight budget, I'm not sure what had been better that night: the duck confit, the bottle of Syrah, or paying with cash responsibly saved for the occasion. Mike and I looked forward to going back these years later.
About half-way through my first night away I joked with Mike that married couples aren't supposed to talk about work or the kids when out on dates. He joked back, "How about that Prince Fielder?" He and the taxi driver had bantered back and forth on that topic during the ride to the restaurant.
The reality is our primary common interests are 22-months-old and inspire lively conversations. Why mess with that? It also wasn't so bad talking about work or whatever else without our common interests needing our direct attention for an entire evening.
I woke up at the usual time the next morning, a sleepy 5:15. I had a headache from the couple glasses of wine and a desire not to miss much of the day with the kids. We went home, took the kids out to brunch, and settled in for another busy week.