Anniversary Night

I'm not sure what my husband used to bribe his sister into baby-sitting all five kids the other night...but I'm glad it worked. I put on make-up (I hope none of it was expired.) I wore jewelry. I frantically flew around the house, prepping bottles, getting Pull-Ups ready and getting out extra outfits. We finally kissed the kids good-bye and walked out of the house.

As we sat down and sipped our drinks, we had an actual conversation. There were no crying babies. No preteens arguing over who's glass had more milk in it. No toddler throwing food. No "Hannah Montana" or "The Witches of Waverly Place" playing in the background.

For two hours we remembered what we were like...and why we liked each other. You know, those reasons you forget about...not that when he comes home he immediately takes a baby...or changes a tantrum-throwing toddler...or that I (most of the time) try to have things in order before he comes home. No...its those things like how we both secretly like Kelly Clarkson's latest hit. Or how he always offers me the last cheese stick, even though I know how much he wants it. Or that we always end the night out with a shot of Peppermint Schnapps.

We came home relaxed and happy. The night was quiet...calm. Then, we opened the door. We could hear both babies screaming from the back bedroom. We walked past the toddler's room, where we could hear the sound of her pounding on the door. My poor sister-in-law was trying to calm one of the babies. I took him from her, and Bruce picked up the other one.

The toddler came out to give us her account of the evening, along with her aunt. After hearing the various things that occurred in our absence...from the oldest boy complaining about the oldest girl not leaving him alone at bedtime, to our toddler's insistance on being treated as a baby (climbing into the high chairs, wearing one of the boys' diapers, and jumping in the bouncer,) not to mention the inconsolable babies...I'm thinking it will take much more to bribe her to watch them next year on our anniversary.

After she left, Irelynn put in her complaint.

"Aunt Candace was mean."

"Why? What did she do?"

"She turned off my light."

"But...wasn't it bedtime?"

"Yeah. But it mean. I don't want to go night-night."

After lots of rocking, lots of negotiating, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich...all three little ones were in bed.

And then so were we.

((sigh))

Hopefully we won't have to wait a whole year to go out again. It will have to be long enough for the shock to wear off of their aunt, I'm afraid...or we might have to find some other unsuspecting poor sap....