My First Foray in Post-Baby Dating – Of My Husband

My husband and I hired a nighttime babysitter to take care of our baby for the first time this weekend.

A colleague of mine is in a band that was playing a show in Baltimore. We wanted to see him – together.

You see, since our 3-month-old baby, Gabe, was born, Mike and I haven’t had much time to spend with each other one-on-one.

And I really miss him.

When I first met him nearly eight years ago in my college town of Iowa City he charmed me with his breezy explanation of his former job – a commodities trader in Omaha.

He traded beans.

And for some reason, the way he said “beans” made me fall in love with him – fall in love with him enough that he moved in with me two weeks after we met.

And we’ve been obnoxiously in love ever since.

But once Gabe came around, we didn't have as much time with each other as before.

So when this opportunity came to hire a babysitter and hit the town, I took it, gladly.

But it became evident soon enough that this first foray into post-baby dating would be fraught with worries about my little one.

On the drive to Baltimore, I repeatedly played a video on my phone of my son cooing and crowing as I sang him “Baby Beluga.”

My fists were clenched the rest of the way as I imagined the babysitter – a totally nice lady who lives here in Columbia – getting a wild hair and deciding to kidnap my perfect little pumpkin and hit the road to Colorado.

Once in Baltimore, Mike and I bumbled around Federal Hill looking for parking for a good, long time.

Then, we bumbled around even longer, trying to find the venue where my colleague was in a band playing some live music.

We looked lost, enough so that we attracted the attention of a strange man who decided to follow us for awhile, shouting at my husband to “Take care of your wife! Fight for your wife! Appreciate her! Cherish her!”

It was wild ramblings, and I was scared, but I smiled at him anyway and said thank you.

I wanted to go home.

Once we reached our destination, I peered into the faces of all the young people enjoying their Saturday night.

And Mike and I looked at the video of our baby again on my phone, and shouted over the music how he was quick to smile, and quick to throw a tantrum, and how we adored those qualities.

Then I asked him how many poops Gabe had taken that day.

We clearly did not belong there.

But we had some fun blowing off steam and catching up with friends. On the walk back to our car we stopped by a pizza joint, and each of us ordered a slice. The pizza came out hot and crispy, and the pepperoni was blackened and sweet.

I remembered our honeymoon, and how part of it was spent wandering the streets of San Francisco looking for the restaurants with the best menus and biggest crowds. With my husband around, it’s guaranteed that I will eat well.

By the time we came home, we were laughing, holding hands and making more eye contact then we’ve been able to do in the last few weeks, when it had seemed like our heads were constantly angled down at the baby, and not as much at each other.

And we found Gabe upstairs in his nursery with his babysitter, giving her the smiles and coos we thought were only reserved for us in thanks for our hard work, late nights and patience.

But he gives his smiles freely.

It makes us so proud, we’ll shout it over the live music – hopefully again very soon.