The Date

@6:30 am: I woke up with the baby, very excited because you were coming home today and we were going to go out for a date, by ourselves, for the first time since baby was born.

@7:30 am: I made a pot of coffee, but I limited myself to two cups so I wouldn't be all gassy tonight. Nothing says 'I love you' like getting all your gas out beforehand.

@9:30 am: I had a shower because baby was asleep so I'd be able to use a leave-in treatment on my hair, and also shave my legs thoroughly in the tub, not hurriedly in the sink.

@11:00 am: I painted my toes all pretty for you, even though I knew you probably wouldn't notice, but they were bugging me pretty bad.

@2:30 pm: The babysitter called and said that she couldn't watch the kids tonight because she had spent the last two hours hugging the porcelain princess, and she didn't want to risk any mishaps.

@ 2:50 pm: I had exhausted the babysitting options, which are admittedly quite limited right now, as there are only a few people who I trust with our three month old, and none were available.

@3:10 pm: I vowed to myself that we could still have a nice evening in together, so I took off the Parental Controls on the T.V. so we could rent a Movie-On-Demand, and I started to prepare a meatloaf with homemade mashed potatoes and corn-off-the-cob, because I knew you would appreciate a home cooked meal.

@4:30 pm: You called and told me you would be running late, and wouldn't be able to leave for home for another hour or so, and since the drive was 21/2 hours from there to here, maybe we should do the date another time. And I said that was okay because the babysitter was busy puking anyway, but that I had homemade meatloaf on the make, and I'd make sure to keep it warm in the oven for you. And you said that would be Fantastic since you've eaten nothing but fast food for the last week anyways, and would love a home cooked meal.

@5:00 pm: I put the meatloaf in the oven, which takes one hour to cook, and I put on my shirt that has the hint of cleavage but slims the tummy, and I put on some mascara and blush because the top made me feel a little sexy, and I wanted to surprise you since all you've seen of me in the last 5 months has been pj pants, messy hair, and shirts stained with spit up.

@5:45 pm: The baby spit up all over my sexy shirt, and I realized that since I hadn't put on mascara in 5 months, that my mascara had expired and turned all flaky, and I looked like that guy from Clockwork Orange, but without the bowler hat, and half the bat-shit Crazy.

@ 5:50 pm: I had on a less sexy shirt, and decided to take the makeup off, because all of my stuff had expired, and I didn't want to run the risk of having an adverse reaction and end up looking like a muppet. or something.

@6:30 pm: I pulled out a  very crisp meatloaf, and realized that the corn is turning green and fuzzy. the older son get Kraft Dinner for supper. I get a glass of wine.

@7:45 pm: Baby has had an explosive poo all over the only pair of pants I fit into that aren't made of flannel. I return to the pj pants.

@8:30 pm: I put older son to bed because he has school in the morning, and i go lay down on the couch with baby. Then I remember that tomorrow's a holiday and there's no school but i leave him in bed anyways because i need a minute to myself. The baby spits up on me again. i wipe it off, but don't bother to change the shirt.

@9:48 pm: I wake up on the couch when you get in the door. I offer you some Kd, but you ate something on the way home.

@9:53 we both get into bed, too tired to do much else but sleep. And as you're drifting off, you let rip a big loud Welcome Home! fart.