The Romance Department
Do you remember how when you’re in your twenties, and in a fairly new relationship how much fun it is to get a hotel room for the night? A little staycation is the ultimate in the romance department. Dinner, drinks, and a total sexathon.
I totally fantasized about this very thing, and Husband and I decided we should have one before Little Buddy arrives. A night for just us, with Destroyer happily in Grandma’s care. A night to go out as to adults and not have to worry about getting home at a reasonable time to drive the babysitter home. A night to not have to listen for bad dreams and bitchy babies. Not tonight. That’s someone else’s department. Tonight, we’re in the romance department.
So we rented a room in a fancy downtown hotel, and set out for our big overnight date. Everything was great. The room was great, the bed was the biggest thing I have ever seen. The service was incredible. So after spending a little bit of time in our fancy new digs, we walked downstairs to look for a cab and went for dinner.
After dinner, we came back to the hotel lounge for a bevvie. I can’t tell you how sexy it felt to sit there and drink my glass of milk in a cocktail glass. Just call me Officer Tackleberry. Too bad I don’t have a gun.
And then it was bedtime. Oh boy. I was so fucking excited to sleep in that wonderful, enormous bed with all the pillows in the universe. All the pillows that weren’t my pillow.
Does anybody else get what I mean about having your pillow? I thought so.
Let me set the stage a little bit here. At 34 weeks pregnant, Husband and I have retreated to separate bedrooms at night. One part is the fact that he works shift work, but the biggest factor is that I am totally fucking annoying to sleep with right now. How do I know this?
It’s not even that Husband won’t sleep with me, it’s that my dog won’t. My big dog is disturbingly obsessed with me. Can’t stand to be away from me. Prefers physical contact with me whenever possible. And even she is sleeping on a dog bed on the floor because I cannot fucking stay still at night. It takes forever to get comfortable even when I have my pillow. And then I have to accept the fact that sleeping on my stomach is not a possibility until
Little Fucker Little Buddy comes out. And then he moves and pierces my bladder with the sharpest part of his little anatomy, so I get up to pee and the process starts all over again.
Welcome to the third trimester, bitches.
After about an hour of this, Husband sits up and asks if it’s possible for me to lie still for more than 12 fucking seconds at a time.
Nope. Wanna trade?
So he gets a blanket from the closet and proceeds to lie on the floor. So much for romance.
I return to the bed and read for a little while on my phone, and finally settle into a comfortable position. I finally doze off. To be awoken 5 minutes later by the loudest snoring in the history of humans. I thought for a second I had accidentally packed the pug.
Nope. Just husband. For fuck’s sake. I can only listen to it for so long before I say something. So we’re both awake again. And he asks me if I want to go home.
The problem is that at that very moment I certainly do. I want my baby and my pillow and my stupid brown dog. I never want to leave home again.
But we stay, and somehow manage to fall asleep without filing for divorce.
The morning is fine actually. They delivered coffee and cookies right to our door. And despite our shitty sleep, we are both in good spirits and looking forward to the grand brunch the hotel puts on. Which was completely amazing by the way. I was full until dinner time.
So what we learned is this:
A romantic getaway is only romantic when you don’t bring the kids. And that includes any on the inside. Because sobriety sucks. And being a beached whale is not the sexy look I was going for.
Once you are a parent, it is impossible to detach yourself from your child. We spent half our time looking at pictures and videos of Destroyer and texting Grandma. Again, we’re gonna need some tequila next time.
As hard as some days are, as tired as I am, I am grateful to have the family I have. I could never go back to the childless lifestyle. That part of me died when I had Destroyer.
But, we realized that we do need to get away together. Not only to have time for us, but to miss our kids. Because on those days they act like assholes, we love them a little easier, because we’ve tasted being apart.
And being apart is way worse.