Jake and I have been going on lots of dates lately. It may have something to do with this. Not sure.
The most recent date we enjoyed was the night before Valentine’s Day. I’ve never been a big V-Day celebrator (celebratrix?) but when you have a kid and they go to preschool and exchange Valentines and down their weight in Gobstoppers and come home spun-out and don’t take their nap…well, you’ll use any excuse to get a night out. We had a great time at the Granada Bistro in downtown SLO, followed by a walk and a cup of decaf from Kreuzberg CA.
I’m so thankful for the handful of terrific babysitters we have on-call for child care. Mostly, they are college students who work in Seabass’ Sunday school class and for whom Seabass has a special affinity. But forget the kids – *I* have a special affinity for them because they are super responsible, fun, wonderful people with whom I have no trouble leaving my two most precious treasures.
In fact, I might love them a little too much. See, the truth is, I sort of live vicariously through them. Jake claims I can’t end a conversation to save my life – and he’s right – but with our babysitters, I’m particularly horrible. I generally hand them a check for their services and begin drooling at the sound of their weekend plans.
“I’m camping in Big Sur this weekend.”
“I’m training for a marathon.”
“I’ve been studying so hard, I think I’ll just sit around in my jammies and watch early Sean Penn movies.”
Drool, drool, drool. Half the time, I want to say,starry-eyed, “…and then what are you going to do?”
Speaking of babysitters, I recently found out that some friends of ours have never – I repeat, NEVER – hired a babysitter in the three years since their son was born. He is a perfectly well-adjusted, normal kid who loves people. I asked the mother how they had gotten this far without a break. She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We just muddle through somehow!”