I have to admit, I’m still working on this one. The actual dating my husband part is fine – we love going out together and having that special one on one time. Being able to eat a nice meal, without being harangued throughout the prep and cooking time by toddlers, is fantastic – especially considering I don’t have to do the dishes afterward. I really, really hate doing dishes. And having a real conversation without being interrupted, pulled on, or whined at is truly priceless.
No, the part I have trouble with is leaving my children behind somewhere. There are the really nice moms out in the world who have this problem because they just love their children so much and can’t bear the three hour separation. I do not have this problem. Mine is that I feel so terribly for the person we left them behind with. Because of this my husband and I have hired a babysitter maybe once or twice since we had Sarah three and a half years ago; we don’t feel like we have the money to pay someone enough to cover the experience. This doesn’t mean we don’t go out, it just means we leave our kids with family, who have to love us and our kids anyways, no matter what. So far, at least.
When we drop the two girls off at the beloved grandparent’s house, the first thing Sarah does is bypass any and all affection from her aged relations to take a direct and speedy route to the toy bins. Within a few seconds these have been dumped all over the living room and beyond and Sarah is transfixed in noisy, violent play. While this is happening, Evee, who is one and a half, is sucking up all the love she can get from grandma (it doesn’t matter which side of the family, her grandma’s are her favorite people in the world). Once she feels loved on enough she’ll scramble out of their arms and begin her search of the nearest source of peril: stairs, LEGOs, small change, chemicals, glassware, tabletops, etc, etc, etc.
Jack and I watch the beloved grandparents leap after the children for a few minutes before beating a hasty retreat out the front door. It’s kind of nice to watch someone else be in charge of the walking horror shows which are my children. I feel relieved and a little smug as we shut the door and walk to our car, but as soon as we drive off that little knot of guilt settles in my stomach—what have I just done? My poor parents. After everything they’ve done for me, I unleashed that on their house and then just walked away.
I know the kids are fine. They couldn’t care less that mom and dad are gone, and the beloved grandparents spoil them rotten. I know they are in good hands and that they’re safe, but I think a small part of me is always worrying we’ll come back from the movies and the beloved grandparents will have had enough. “Didn’t you mention something about moving oversees someday?” They’ll ask. “Are you leaving anytime soon? We’d love to help you pack.”
The threat of continental expulsion from your parents (or worse, in-laws) can make dating somewhat stressful, but it’s still important to do. And if this worst case scenario ever does come to fruition, you can always take solace in the knowledge that no one in your new country knows your darling children, and you can hire babysitters there for at least a while before they catch on and start charging you double.
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