A Night Out

Keri and I just got back from a night out, just the two of us. We went to a reading downtown, then out to dinner. And somewhere at the end of the leisurely meal, after the remnants of the hummus wrap and beet salad we shared had been cleared from the table, and the check had been paid, it occurred to me: we should do this more often.

It seemed like anyone who knew us would find that a weird thought. Keri and I are together all the time. We're together in the kitchen every morning, feeding the kids. We often go to the gym together, then sometimes out for coffee and a scone with the twins or our friend Lauren or whoever else happens to be with us. In the afternoons, we consult one another a hundred times: what should we have for dinner? how much babysitting do you need tomorrow? can you drive the kids to school? should we go to the zoo on Saturday? etc., etc. But we very rarely are alone for any length of time. I couldn't remember the last extended conversation we had without Andy and/or Matty around, one that didn't involve obscure codes or spelling out words so little ears wouldn't figure out what we were talking about.

Andy and I make an effort to go out without the kids a couple of times a month. Keri and Matty try also. And the four of us leave the kids at home on occasion, to dine at a restaurant where the food is inevitably inferior, in my opinion, to what we eat at home. But Keri and I really don't make that same kind of time for one another, and I think that needs to change.