Last Friday, I went out for drinks with a couple of friends. One of them was visiting from out of town, and as we barhopped through the East Village I enjoyed the view of my city through her eyes. Mostly because it wasn't all that different from the view through my eyes, which hadn't seen the inside of a bar since before the world knew what a "K-Fed" was.
As fun as that night was, it superseded an important tradition we have at the Laid-Off Lair: Nothing Night. Moxie and I reserve most Fridays to be alone together, and since babysitting is so expensive (most of them demand a limo ride home, with a wet bar and finger sandwiches), we usually spend it at home. We get a bottle of wine and sit on the couch, talk, read, relax, and forget for the moment that we spend so much of our lives preventing two little beings from destroying each other.
The truth is, we have very little help with our kids. We still love our sitter, but lately she has much less time for us because she's busy getting a degree and getting on with her real life. (Bitch.) So we're mostly on our own, and the constant policing can wear us down, make us irritable. Cause us to lash out at each other instead of at our circumstances.
Friday night, we are no longer the GateKeeper and the KeyMaster. Friday is the night to remember that once we were just we, before they were they. It is, by far, my favorite time of the week.