We went out for dinner Friday night sans bebes and I really wish I had brought my camera with me. It was oh-so mouthwateringly delicious! Is that even a word? If it's not, it should be! We shared a caramelized onion and kalmata olive flatbread for starters. For our main, I had butternut squash ravioli with goat cheese and pine nuts and he had pan seared sea bass on wilted spinach au gratin and some sort of yummy vegetables that I cannot remember. Then, came dessert! I don't have dessert very often (or go out for dinner to a place that doesn't have a kids menu with food named like superheros or something equally as cheesy) so I decided to get my all time favourite. Creme brule. Oh, how I love the sound of the crisp sugar crust cracking under my spoon. I love the taste, the smell, the temperature, and the texture. If I could have dessert every day without fear of gaining 100lbs a week, I'd have creme brule everyday. Mr. B had New York cheesecake with strawberry coulis. An excellent choice! If you were to humanize the relationship between me and my favourite desserts, creme brule would be my sexy-smart-intriguing husband and cheesecake would be the object of a torrid affair.
Anyway, all that to say that dinner was amazing. What was not so wonderful though was walking home on the most beautiful night of the season carrying a 10lb food-baby and that being the only thing I could think of. Oh. My. It was way too much food to consume in one sitting and so it was rather uncomfortable. I think one has to do that every now and then just as a reminder that one does indeed have limits. It was nothing that jammies, a movie, and slipping into a coma couldn't fix. ;)
We talked, we planned, we made fun of each other's food-baby and most importantly, Mr. B did not let me sleep on the neighbour's lawn until I could walk comfortably. I begged him to go on without me and just leave me there until morning. Instead he held my hand and told me jokes to make me laugh so I could keep my mind off the fact that I really just wanted to sleep off the impending food paralysis
That made me think of all the reasons we've made it this far. There is really no need to get into the sticky mess that is our past, but let's sum it up by saying that many couples we know have split for much less than what we've endured. Even when things are bad, we still have a secret language that helps us communicate when all the other words are just too difficult to comprehend. Laughter. Fun.
We built a new house last year and our builder was sometimes very frustrating to deal with. One of the annoyances was the lack of lawn until late into the summer. It was a drag. The kids had no soft green space to play on and our house was constantly covered in a layer of dust or mud. We could have been real jerks about it but instead, we chose to do this:
Eventually, it looked like this and we were happy. Then we had to find other ways to entertain ourselves though.
You know my rule... when life hands you lemons, make lemon scones.
I've been uber-busy with my little business lately and so that I still get to spend time with Mr. B when he's home without letting my orders slide, he joins me in the dungeon and we play a little game we used to play a long time ago. When we were younger and the babies were still babies, we never went out because we were always so tired and besides that, we never had any money to go out even if we wanted to and so we used to play video games, watch movies, and play "stump Marnie". (Get it out of the gutter!) How it works is that Mr. B plays a clip of a song and tries to stump me. I can't remember where I put my car keys 1 minute after I put them down but I can remember a song I heard once or twice when I was 14 years old. He searches songs on Blip, I build jewelry and pluck the song out of my dusty brain and shout it out. Mr. B continues to search. Music. Another magical language.
We also know how to have fun. Yes we do! The next photo captures an impromptu party that broke out with the kids... on a Tuesday night.
Loud music, dancing, soda pop and snackies for the kids, a glass (or two) of wine for Mama. Good times.
Oh, and this one is for you Ellen. I've taken your advice and I've chosen to avoid seeing tumours. Instead, my peppers now have bums.
The language here is sometimes a little different from what others speak. Sometimes the dialect is a little funny, quirky, dark, or silly but we all understand it and that's enough for us.