This Friday, Sweet Husband and I went "out" for the first time since the Kiddo was born. Dinner with friends at a grown-up restaurant. Cocktails with silly names like, "The Former Spy". Conversation about the news of the day, and not one mention of poop. It was wonderful and scary all at once.
Several months ago--I believe it was when we were figuring out the daycare thing--I had a conversation with Nice Mom, about how nice it would be to have a grandma or other relative nearby to regularly watch the Kiddo.
As part of her "buck up" speech, Nice Mom started telling stories about the people she left me with when I was a wee babe. She and Nice Dad lived in Chicago when I was born, with no family nearby--just a few of Dad's bachelor dental school friends and the people they knew from their apartment building.
"Let's see...we left you with your Dad's dental school friends a few times, but they didn't really know much about taking care of babies. And then there was the building manager. He was really nice--he brought you the cutest stuffed elephant when you were born. And then there were the two girls that lived next door. They were really sweet and they adored you--I think they were actually hookers, but..."
"Wait a minute. Rewind. What?!?"
"Well, I'm not positive. I was really naive then. I'm not sure I would have recognized it, but...the hours they kept...the company...yeah, I'm pretty sure they were working girls."
Nice Dad disputes the factual basis of this story, but I think it's hilarious so I'm going to continue to tell it as if it's true. And, true or not, it achieved its intended purpose. 'Cause I turned out ok, right?
And it also made me grateful. Because, even though we don't have family super close, we do have an awesome circle of friends. For this particular evening out, the Kiddo stayed with one of Sweet Husband's Fabulous Co-Workers. I won't say I didn't think of him when we were out, but I certainly didn't worry. The scary part referenced above had nothing to do with leaving the Kiddo.
The scary part was how normal it felt. Like, I'm envisioning the scene at the end of The Lord of the Rings where, after finally returning to the Shire, Frodo and his friends all sit down at the pub to have a beer. Not that I'm comparing our baby to a trip to Mordor, but it has been this huge, life-changing mission...quest...thing. (Har, har.) When you add the time being pregnant...being careful, sharing my body...to this past month...still sharing several body parts, at least...it's been a long time since I've just been me, even if only for a few hours.
On the way home, I told Sweet Husband that I was actually feeling a little guilty that I had enjoyed myself so much. Which he quickly dismissed as silliness, and rightly so.