A Special Night Out

It's that time of year again.

As a child, you eagerly count down the days starting months in advance; as an adult (especially women), you duck your head and hope no one notices the date (although secretly hope that your special someone will make a big hoopla about it).

I'm talking about birthdays. Yesterday was mine.

My good friend informed me that she was coming over at 6 to babysit and expected us to be on our way for a rare evening out by no later than 6:02. I dropped a few hints to Husband that this is one occasion he needs to plan without my help. He obediently obliged.

However, the night didn't exactly go as planned. I'll tell you the story in chronological order, although I only heard the details well after the fact!

Husband (at the office): "Hey guys, need to take the wifey out for her birthday. Some place classy."
Friend: "mumble mumble mumble High Point mumble mumble mumble swanky mumble..."
Husband: "Thanks, dude."

Later, on our way to the restaurant...
Mama: "So, where are you taking me?"
Husband: "I can't remember the name - Marceau's? Marcella? It's in High Point."
M: "As in the city of High Point? Do you have an address?"
H: "We'll find it, I'm sure."
M: "What time is our reservation? Y'know, in case it takes us a little longer to get there?"
H: (with a withering look) "I didn't make one. What's the worst that could happen?"
M: "Uh, they'll send us away!"
H: "No they won't. I'm persuasive."

Still later, as we drove through town for an hour...
M: "Would you please text your friend?"
H: "It's the supper hour, that would be rude."
M: "I'm hungry and it's my birthday! That's rude."
H: "Yes, dear."

Even later, having not received a response yet from his friend...
M: "Let's just go to that Italian place we went to last time."
H: "I'll humor you, since it's your birthday."
M: (sarcastically) "Yes, dear."

Finally at the Italian place, about 1½ hours after leaving our house...
H: "Oh look, got a text from my friend. 'Marisol - 5800 block of High Point Road'." (High Point Road does lead to High Point but it's a very long stretch.)
M: "Maybe we'll try that next time we go out."
H: "Sure, if you'll take care of the arrangements."
M: "That's the plan, my love."

After a satisfying meal of all things cheesy and garlicky, we talked about going to a movie. It was a difficult conversation because we were so overfull and I was tipsy besides. We sat there glassy-eyed and bloated, then finally agreed we were too tired from eating to sit through a movie.

However, it was only 8:30 and I worried that we'd arrive home too early and have to put the kids to bed ourselves (this is a huge ordeal). Plus, I'm pretty sure it's pathetic to come home from a date at that hour.

We debated in the car for a few more minutes about what to do, but then concluded that we'd just go home after all.

"Drive really slowly," I advised. "The later we arrive, the better chances the kids are asleep when we get there.

Suggesting that Husband drive slowly is a ludicrous proposal, as our insurance premiums make clear. In honor of my birthday though, I was able to convince Husband to squeeze it back to 75 mph (the posted limit was 65). We returned home in record time and the noise of the opening garage door easily woke the kids and brought them thundering down the stairs. The frazzled sitter gave us a pitying look and then escaped to her car.

As my sister-in-law pointed out to me this morning, this date was memorable. I was laughing as I related the story to her, so you might also say that the date was a success.