Making progress, but just barely

When Zeke was about 9 weeks old, Jason and I went out together to his company's Christmas party.  We left Zeke in the very capable hands of one of his daycare teachers.  We trusted her completely and knew he was fine, and we didn't worry about him.

And on our first night out as adults in months, with the opportunity to dance and have a few drinks and just enjoy each others' company as married people ... we spent all of our time cooing over pictures of Zeke on Jason's cell phone.

It's been two years, and not much has changed.

The childrens' daycare does this great thing of having a parents' night out on the second Saturday of every month, meaning they will watch the children from 6 to 11 at night and give the parents an opportunity to have some time to themselves.  They charge a reasonable fee (less than I would pay a babysitter anyway for that amount of time), and the children are safe and sound with caregivers that are familiar to them (as well as being trained professionals).  

For various reasons, we haven't been able to take advantage of it for a few months, but this past Saturday we decided it was high time for a date night.

We dropped the children off -- Zeke skipped off to play with his friends without a glance back at us -- and headed over to the west side of town to have a scrumptious, leisurely dinner at Cafe Brazil.  Yummy wine, yummy food, yummy ambiance.  

Then we came back to our neighborhood and headed to PS Lounge, a funky local bar where every woman that comes in gets a rose and the owner walks around chatting people up and sometimes giving out free shots.  The jukebox is full of Billie Holliday and Frank Sinatra and Etta James and Elvis.  I had a dirty martini, Jason had a margarita, and we both had fun.

We talked about how nice it was to spend time together.  We talked about some movies we wanted to see.  We talked about current events.

But mostly, we talked about our children.