We were driving in the car the other day listening to
when “I’m a Little Teapot” came on. Hubby said: “There’s something about this song that seems really dirty.” I hope you are all now singing the lyrics in your head and laughing your ass off because I did. His comment made me think we desperately needed a night out alone – sans nursery rhythms, diaper bags, kids menus and highchairs. Just us, alcohol, and semi-coherent adult conversation.
Little known fact that Hubby and I have known each other since diapers. Our parents were best friends at the University of Vermont in the late 60’s. Post college, the four of them (plus a couple of stragglers) all lived together in Boston. Some may call this type of arrangement a hippie-commune but they refer to it as “budget living.” (Tomato/Tomahhhto). My now Father-In-Law was my Dad’s Best Man. Here is a picture from that wedding. Don’t they look like a Simon and Garfunkel cover band?
And here is a picture of our beautiful mothers (lucky guys):
After we were born my parents moved to Upstate New York but we still saw saw each other every year for family vacations. One time we met up to go skiing when I was 12 and Future-Hubby was 13. My hair was in a ponytail the whole day as I sped down the slopes with him and my sister. His mom tells me that when we met up for dinner later that night my hair was down. Future-Hubby saw this and ran back upstairs to douse himself in Cool Water cologne. Now, I don’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning let alone a story from the early 90s; however, I married Rain Man and he remembers it along with this one: He was visiting us from Boston when I was 4 and he was 5. I had already learned how to ride a bike but he hadn’t yet
.) Apparently I was showing off gunning it up and down the hill but no one was paying attention because they were focused on him trying to learn how to pedal alone. When he finally mastered it, everyone clapped. My bossy-ass ran over and announced “Now you have to clap as loud as you did for HIM as you do for ME” as I got back up on my bike and sped down the hill. (I would deny this but it sounds way too much like me… sonofa’…)
Anyway, I guess this is a long, disjointed way of telling you that I married my best friend. We had a blast growing up together and a blast entering adulthood together. It’s so easy to forget that you married your best friend when life happens. Especially when you are all-consumed (in the best way possible) with a life you created together. I implore you all to get out of the house together, sans child, before nursery rhythms start sounding naughty.
I have recently become obsessed with UrbanSitter.com. It’s free to sign up and I can read ratings, have a conversation back and forth with potential sitters, and see who else in my circle of friends has used them. The best part for me is that there is always someone available to book last minute. Like when your baby is sleeping and you get the urge to go down the street for a drink with Hubby to reminisce about the good old days when you dominated him in skiing and riding bikes.
Could I be less impressed?
URBANSITTER is giving away $60 in babysitting credits plus a $40 restaurant gift card ($100 value) to one of my Facebook fans. Go over to my page, (“Like” it if you haven’t already) and tell me why you need a night out to be entered to win.
The author may be compensated for her posts, but the views and opinions are her own.