In praise of not dating your spouse
One piece of advice I read oodles of places when we were first married was to always make "date night" a priority. I'm not sure what was meant by this expression -- maybe a variety of options -- but I took it to mean going some place with no kids either present or even mentioned in conversation, dressed nicely, and spending money to create a memorable occasion. This was to be performed regularly, as in, ideally weekly, and one shouldn't spare any expense on it. After all, this was an investment in your marriage.
This advice, while surely helpful to many, gave me undue guilt for years. When we first married, going out for dinner was an expense that would blow our feeble budget to smithereens. Finding a babysitter, even when we lived so close to grandparents, to leave our nursing baby with, seemed like an insurmountable chore. And "dressing up?" That level of grooming and primping sounded especially horrendous to my PPD mind, especially when I was all too aware how my "baby weight" lingered well beyond the "nine months on, nine months off" mark.
Patrick and I did lots of pleasant things together back in those days. After Noah went to bed, we would watch movies together, we would take turns reading aloud things to each other, we both tried our hand at 'hobbies' together (one winter I attempted -- pathetically -- to cross-stitch while he learned to whittle. We did this while watching "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" because we're aspiring pioneers who love our WIFI and our dishwasher).
Yet we only went on a meagre number of "dates" by the definition I was operating under.
Not that long ago, I had a resurgence of that weird guilt (or more accurately, neurosis) about our lack of dating. We hardly ever leave the house together unless we're with our children. Of course, we love going places as a family. But what about our marriage? Weren't we DOOMED to a loveless life of drudgery if we didn't go out on dates?
{I googled "at-home date nights" and had a few chuckles over this website: prepackaged printables with various date "themes" including everything under the sun, even "The Walking Dead."
I see the appeal this approach may have to some couples, I suppose, but Patrick and I are so pragmatic that we'd both groan over the overuse of coloured ink cartridges in executing such a date.}
I recalled that, prior to being married, we went on so many dates. Patrick remarked when we were engaged "gosh, it's so expensive always going out together!" I retorted, "when we're married, we'll have a house together and we'll just eat dinner at our own kitchen table!" He smiled and realized that what we both wanted was a shared life more than a bill at an eating establishment. We're both homebodies, through and through.
And so as I recalled this conversation, I realized we do "date" each other, by sitting together on the couch and talking at night. Sometimes we watch a movie on Netflix or formed.org, other times I make a different dinner for just us. We've also been known to play some highly competitive games of Settlers of Catan (does it surprise you that I'm a sore loser?). Most often we just talk about our day, our goals for renovating our house, the funny or frustrating things that the kids did lately, and everything else in between.
It's not glamorous, but it it's romantic, to me at least. I waited my whole life to find someone who would cheerily curl up on the couch with me, who thought reading an encyclical out loud was entertainment, who was happy to eat cheese and crackers instead of a meal at a five-star restaurant.
About to head out on an "actual" date.
I miss my hair like that.
This advice, while surely helpful to many, gave me undue guilt for years. When we first married, going out for dinner was an expense that would blow our feeble budget to smithereens. Finding a babysitter, even when we lived so close to grandparents, to leave our nursing baby with, seemed like an insurmountable chore. And "dressing up?" That level of grooming and primping sounded especially horrendous to my PPD mind, especially when I was all too aware how my "baby weight" lingered well beyond the "nine months on, nine months off" mark.
Patrick and I did lots of pleasant things together back in those days. After Noah went to bed, we would watch movies together, we would take turns reading aloud things to each other, we both tried our hand at 'hobbies' together (one winter I attempted -- pathetically -- to cross-stitch while he learned to whittle. We did this while watching "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" because we're aspiring pioneers who love our WIFI and our dishwasher).
Yet we only went on a meagre number of "dates" by the definition I was operating under.
Not that long ago, I had a resurgence of that weird guilt (or more accurately, neurosis) about our lack of dating. We hardly ever leave the house together unless we're with our children. Of course, we love going places as a family. But what about our marriage? Weren't we DOOMED to a loveless life of drudgery if we didn't go out on dates?
{I googled "at-home date nights" and had a few chuckles over this website: prepackaged printables with various date "themes" including everything under the sun, even "The Walking Dead."
I see the appeal this approach may have to some couples, I suppose, but Patrick and I are so pragmatic that we'd both groan over the overuse of coloured ink cartridges in executing such a date.}
I recalled that, prior to being married, we went on so many dates. Patrick remarked when we were engaged "gosh, it's so expensive always going out together!" I retorted, "when we're married, we'll have a house together and we'll just eat dinner at our own kitchen table!" He smiled and realized that what we both wanted was a shared life more than a bill at an eating establishment. We're both homebodies, through and through.
And so as I recalled this conversation, I realized we do "date" each other, by sitting together on the couch and talking at night. Sometimes we watch a movie on Netflix or formed.org, other times I make a different dinner for just us. We've also been known to play some highly competitive games of Settlers of Catan (does it surprise you that I'm a sore loser?). Most often we just talk about our day, our goals for renovating our house, the funny or frustrating things that the kids did lately, and everything else in between.
It's not glamorous, but it it's romantic, to me at least. I waited my whole life to find someone who would cheerily curl up on the couch with me, who thought reading an encyclical out loud was entertainment, who was happy to eat cheese and crackers instead of a meal at a five-star restaurant.
"There are two ways of getting home;
and one of them is to stay there."
G.K. Chesterton
This was a fabulous post. Also, I remember that hot pink skirt. I have always loved it. And, yes, your hair looks great that way. You and Jaclyn really wear short hair well. I feel very similarly to you about date nights. I do like going out, but Dave and I do better when we are on a walk, a drive or doing something constructive together. Just reading your line about driving late at night with all the kids asleep gave me a feeling of nostalgia. So much time is wasted fitting in to other people's boxes. Unfortunately, we SHMs have too much mental space to think and compare and have conversations in our heads.
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