My absolute favorite day of the week is Tuesday.
Tuesday is Date Night. Yes, it deserves capital letters. Date Night even has it’s own babysitter reserved for Tuesday nights. I typically do things wrong the first go round but I am sure I got this one right, Date Night.
Buddy and I have differing opinions and priorities through out the week positioning us sometimes as opponents. Mud tracked in left on the garage floor is immediately swept, a priority for Buddy. Mud stomped all the way up the stairs inside the house calls for no action? We have been shimmying around a huge dollhouse placed at the top of the stairs. What I thought was a temporary holding area became permanent and a home to the many dust bunnies gathered under the wheels. Buddy on the other hand, may wonder why the girls have a dollhouse that even requires wheels. As Buddy steps out of the shower reaching for a clean towel that isn’t there, he realizes where my priorities are not. For all the little idiosyncrasies of home life, there is our Date Night to band us back together. Not to mention food, the favored peanut butter and jelly gets old night after night.
Some evenings we may bicker our way out to the car, but once sealed inside the childless automobile shoulders loosen. Exhale. We sink back in to Erin and Buddy, shedding the weight of Mommy and Daddy for an hour or two. We have uninterrupted conversations, linger over entrees prepared on dishes to be cleaned up by someone else. Sometimes we sit together in a beautiful silence. We’ll talk about the heat of parent hood, things that bubble to the surface and laugh. I have heard it said the key to a great marriage is communication. Buddy and I find the “key” is more than communication. Laughter. Together. An inside joke.
Date Night adds a lightness to our routine, lends us some space, allows a smile to sneak in during a week full of dirty dishes, piles of laundry, endless errands, work and obligation. Every Tuesday night I get to sit across the dinner table from a generous man who loves me through the worst of my crazies. A man who listens as I spout curse words explaining my frustration dealing with a two year old who has chosen constant wardrobe changes as the front runner in her war on independence. He listens and somehow, makes me laugh. Every Tuesday evening I am reminded to find humor in the messiness, our messiness, laughing with my perfect partner in life. Perfect together.
It is Tuesday!