Posts Tagged ‘date night’

What tigress is there that does not purr over her young ones, and fawn upon them in tenderness? —Saint Augustine

Trying desperately to hide the I-have-a-colicky-baby circles beneath my eyes, I applied the third layer of Cover Girl magic.  Not bad for three hours of sleep.  Moving to our full-length mirror, I turned first one direction and then another.  Suck it in, girl!  Inhaling, I tried to hide the remainder of my baby bump.  Oh, well.  At least we’re getting out.

After the 5-minute transfer of baby, car seat, blankets and diaper bag to the car, Dave and I grinned at each other.  Date night!  We hadn’t enjoyed “couple time” for a few months–the result of first time parents living thousands of miles from trusted grandmothers.  It took some charm and convincing on Dave’s part, but I had agreed to leave our 4-month old in the capable hands of childcare workers on the base for a couple of hours.

A little pizza joint was parked conveniently within minutes of the Navy gate and we ventured inside– giddy to have alone time together.  Sliding into the red, plastic booth I began the conversation.  “Do you think Ben is alright?”  I was consumed by baby thoughts–on this long-awaited date.  Ugh!

Twenty minutes later, the waitress stopped by our table.  But instead of delivering pizza, she delivered a message.  “The daycare lady is on the phone.”

“I got it,” Dave reassured me as he walked over to the business phone.

“We’ve got to get Ben,”  he said when he returned to me and my empty glass of soda–which had sucked down in my nervousness.  “He won’t stop crying.”

Tucking a box of uneaten pizza beneath an arm, Dave and I rushed the few miles to NAS Pensacola only to discover the gate was closed.  Dave teased, “I guess we’ll get him in the morning.”  I didn’t pick up on the joke–instead, it fed my fear.  Frantic that my helpless baby and I were separated by barbed wire, I decided nothing and nobody who would keep me from my baby!  A fifteen-foot fence?  An armed officer standing duty?  Not a chance.

Shoving the car door open, I sprinted to the fence and–in all of my post-baby glory–scurried to the top of that metal barrier like a commando on a night raid.

“Tammy!  Tammy!”  Dave’s voice just penetrated my world.  “I’m kidding, hon.  There’s another gate.”

A few minutes later we pulled up to the daycare center.  I had transformed from Navy-seal-wannabe to packing-a-few-extra-pounds-new-mommy.  It can happen.

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