I drink alone

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

On Sunday night, my husband I and decided to get the babe ready for bed early so that we could go out to dinner at a new restaurant near our house.  We have done it several times before, get him ready for bed, snuggle him up in his bucket seat, drive around for a half hour and then have a peaceful and romantic dinner while B sleeps angelically.

This particular Sunday's routine was no different than usual.  As soon as my husband hit the gas, B was out cold.  We drove around for another twenty minutes for good measure.  We got lucky with an awesome parking spot and thought that the stars were aligning perfectly for our evening on the town as a threesome.  Haha.  Nice try, silly newbie parents, nice try.

The restaurant was pretty posh with a really cool looking circular bar in the center that was illuminated beautifully.  Just made me want to have a nice expensive glass of wine.  I had fed B about an hour before we left so I figured that I'd be good to have 1 glass before the next feeding.  Haha.  Riiiight.

Not 5 minutes after we were seated, the little angel babe decided he had enough of dreamland and woke up.  His eyes were wide open.  At first he kind of just looked around, but my husband and I knew better than to think he'd be content sucking on his pacifier while being entertained by the 7:30 PM trendy drinking crowd.  He soon started to fuss, then cry, then full-out wail.  My husbands attempts to rock the bucket did nothing.

The waitress came over to get our drink order.  I ordered a nice Cabernet and my husband ordered a beer.  Turns out my husband and I looked younger than our mid-thirty year old selves because we both got carded and oops my husband forgot his ID in the car.  The waitress insisted that she had to check his ID before serving him so he decided to go back to the car and take the baby to see if he might fall asleep on the walk.

Ten minutes later my husband came back in a huff.  Baby was still crying.  He was pissed.  I had already sipped my wine.  He sarcastically told me to enjoy it, and without giving me any time to ask what he was doing, promptly left with the screaming baby.

So there I was in the middle of the crowded restaurant, drinking a glass of Cabernet alone.  I took a sip of my glass of wine.  I had no idea what was going on so I called him.  He told me to order food to go for both of us and call him when it was done.  He said he'd be driving around until B fell asleep and would pick me up.  He told me to enjoy my glass of wine.

So yeah that's what I sort of did.  For the first time, I think ever, I sat at a restaurant table and drank by myself.  Normally I would have felt very uncomfortable about this new found situation, but this time, I found it actually quite nice to be alone.  I savored the wine and the peace.

I figured that I didn't have much time while the food was prepared so I pretty much slammed down the glass of wine.  By the time the food came, I was a little tipsy.  I called my husband and told him to pick me up.  He yelled over the crying baby that he'd be there in 2 minutes and to walk across the (busy) street to wait for him.  I jokingly said that I hoped that I wouldn't get hit by a car, knowing I was rather tipsy and in heels, and he hung up on me.  Nice.

B screamed all the way home.  My attempts to make him feel better by sitting in the back seat of the car did nothing.  He was, apparently, starving, and due to the fact that I had just chugged a glass of wine, I could not simply whip out a boob.  We dealt with the screaming until my husband put a bottle of breast milk in his mouth 20 minutes later.  

By the time we got the baby to sleep, the food was cold and neither of us felt like eating.  So much for a night of romance...  We are slowly but surely learning who the commander in chief of the family is these days and it most definitely isn't either of us.  

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