Date Night

I want to throw my arms around the person (most likely a woman) who invented the concept of babysitters. E and I headed out last night for the art museum in the city, which we've sometimes thought about doing, but in 4 1/2 years never actually done. We had reservations at Lidia's (Bastianich - another of E's post-menopausal crushes) so it looked to be a lovely evening out sans kidlets. Wahoo!



After a bit of a rocky start involving my offering to cut up an apple to accompany the kids' pizza dinner, and an ensuing temper tantrum on E's part in response to my attempt to infuse the 'meal' with at least a wee bit of actual nutrition before departing we got on our way. I may or may not have sat in rigid, punitive silence for most of the 20 minute drive. But we recovered from the apple incident (we have about 2 disagreements per year, so they are usually noteworthy) in time to take on the museum. We admired the Jackson Pollacks, sighed at the Monets, squinted at the Picassos... and whispered conspiratorially in complete puzzlement over the two light bulbs, attached to an extension cord and stapled to the wall in the name of modern art. It was so lovely to wander leisurely (without fearing a toddler or two might self-combust at any moment, or begin giggling and loudly proclaim that their bum is talking, or blurt out in amazement at the striking roundness of some stranger's belly) and just soak it up in near silence.



Dinner was equally lovely. We stuffed ourselves with gorgeous pastas followed by lemon cake with meyer lemon sorbet and some kind of decadent chocolate and chestnut concoction. And the highlight of the evening -- arriving home to three sleeping angels. I've decided we should do this every night. Except the scene with the apple. Next time, no apples.