Ladies and gentlemen, Matt and I have officially accomplished a very important rite into parenthood: we had our first date. Our first date P.L., that is (Post Livia). As in sans baby. Let's all just take a moment to savor this, shall we? See it all started with the fabulous and lovely Charis coming across the pond for a visit (more on that later) and very sweetly offering up a free night of babysitting. And considering that Charis is a bit of a baby guru, there was no way we were passing that one up.
So I thought I should share about this momentous occasion with a bit of a date breakdown:
It's official; we're hitting the town tonight. Matt looks up restaurant venues while I shove some stuff at Charis and try not to sound like that parent while showing her all the contact and emergency numbers taped up in the cupboard.
We decide to shake things up a bit and try out a super trendy place called Sharky's. But first we stop by the maternity ward at the Clinique Lambert where our friend Kristine has just given birth a few days prior.
Oooh and ahh over little Chloé. I am once again afraid of breaking newborns but thankfully the feeling passes without any baby dropping. I am back to being Talia, Seasoned Newborn Mother, Hear Me Roar (or something like that).
You might remember Kristine from this pic at my baby shower. Now three of the five ladies pictured here have finally popped.
Park and take picture documenting our newly found freedom. Head towards Sharky's.
Find Sharky's. Take in closed off club-like appearance and booming Latin music pouring out. Tiptoe up to door and peek in. See empty dance floor as barman spots us. Tries to convince us to stay in the empty restaurant area. Realize that we're a bit early compared to their normal clientele. Tell hip barman we'll think about it and back peddle out. Hip barman starts to chuckle.
Realize that we cannot return to Sharky's this evening with dignity still intact. Start looking for other options on foot. Begin comparing ourselves to the white middle class couple from the suburbs in the movie Date Night. The White Wimps nickname is born. The White Wimps make a pact to go back to Sharky's sometime within the next year.
Enter lots of walking. The decisions are down to Greek or Moroccan. Greek it is. Enter restaurant. As waiter is seating us I notice a green olive fly off of a lady's plate and onto the floor. She spends the next few minutes sneakily searching for it but only I know that it is really already two tables down from her. My stellar observational skills also pick up on the fact that the average person in the restaurant has a good 40 years on us. If I had a Toto I'd tell him that clearly we are no longer in Sharky's.
Our first course is served and I forget all about Sharky's. The White Wimps savor a delish greek salad with a fabulous block of feta cheese to top it off.
Bathroom break. On the way back I get stuck between two chairs and a woman who's hand is behind her back looking for a pocket to put her wallet in. Unless I want to get felt up by this stranger, I have to be patient. I wait.
Freedom. Matt and I catch up and talk about all things baby unrelated.
Finish food and wine and ask for the check. Waiter passes us three times before he remembers to bring us our check. Not sure why, most of the senior clientele have left and restaurant is half as full as it was originally.
We (Matt) pay and the hunt for the car begins. The White Wimps were so distracted by the Sharky's fiasco that they've forgotten where they parked their car. Lots of wandering and a smart phone save Charis from an all-nighter in the end.
Cheap that we are, we return home for dessert (yogurts--it's a French thing). I fittingly choose some greek yogurt from the fridge. Proud of myself, I check on my daughter. Sleeping Beauty couldn't care less that we're home. Ahh, well, you can't have everything.
Collapse into bed in the hopes that a little someone will sleep until 7 am.
Livia is up and a new day begins.