"Date Night"

When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed to discover they are not it.
- Bernard Bailey

Here it is "Friday Night!." I think we used to call it "date night."

Brandy and I still talk a lot about dates, like the date of open house at the elementary, the date we travel out of town to see family, or the date for Madelyn's next doctors appointment, etc. etc. Somewhere within parenthood the meaning of "having a date" has slipped away, replacing the question of what "we" will do, with what "we all" will do, or "what will we do with ______?" (insert names of children here).

So we don't ask the questions much anymore, and just sit at home unless the date is "planned." This involves much preparation, and I'm beginning to think that there might be a business in planning dates for parents, like a wedding planner plans your wedding. You just call up the person, tell them some shared interests between you and your wife, and they take care of the following:

1. Determining an evening where there is no soccer, basketball, ballet, recital, church, school program, meeting, conference, illness, or national disaster in the children's schedule.
2. Arranging child care.
3. Arranging emergency medical care for children during child care.
4. Arranging counseling and medical care for the child care provider after child care.
5. UPS shipped, clear plastic coveralls designed to allow the parents to leave the house without the tell-tale marks of cracker crumbs, milk, kool-aide, or spit-up stains.
5. Sending text messages to the mom's cell phone every 30-minutes during the date saying "Your kids are fine. You are not a bad mother for leaving them".
6. Making reservations at a quiet, secluded locale whose meals do not come with a toy.
7. Providing a list of adult topics to discuss during the evening (since the parents will be a little out of practice). These should be pre-screened not include any references to stickers, stars, dolls, diapers, formula, etc.
8. A grocery delivery made to the house where the date does not end with buying milk, bread, and diapers at Wal-Mart.
9. An after dinner activity that does not involve clowns (or other costumed things), arcade games, or getting a balloon or sucker.
10. A kiss or hug to end the evening, without hearing "EWWW!!!! Mommy, Daddy... STOP DOING THAT!"

But you know, in all honesty at least we as parents have had our time for "romance." Some people out there are still looking for it. I listen to National Public Radio, and one of the latest books they mentioned on-air was Naughty Lola, a compilation of personal adds from the London Review of Books. Below are some excerpts (story):

Romance is dead. So is my mother. Man, 42, inherited wealth.

You're a brunette, 6', long legs, 25-30, intelligent, articulate and drop-dead gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am 4'10", have the looks of Herve Villechaize and carry an odor of wheat. No returns and no refunds at box no. 3321.

My finger on the pulse of culture, my ear to the ground of philosophy, my hip in the medical waste bin of Glasgow Royal Infirmary. 14% plastic and counting -- geriatric brainiac and compulsive NHS malingering fool (M, 81), looking for richer, older sex-starved woman on the brink of death to exploit and ruin every replacement operation I've had since 1974. Box no. 7648 (quickly, the clock's ticking, and so is this pacemaker).

Your stars for today: A pretty Cancerian, 35, will cook you a lovely meal, caress your hair softly, then squeeze every damn penny from your adulterous bank account before slashing the tires of your Beamer. Let that serve as a warning. Now then, risotto?

Man... makes me glad I'm not single and looking anymore. I'll take watching Brandy change Madelyn's diaper in the middle of the living room floor on a Friday night over that any day....