My hubby and I probably don’t go on as many dates as we should. We both work a lot, and when we’re not working we prefer to hang out as a four-some with the girls. But for about two weeks, last Friday had been dubbed as a date night. We picked the restaurant, we lined up Nana to watch the girls and we put it on the calendar in ink. 

Then the blizzard blew in and dropped about a foot of wet, heavy snow on us. We decided to venture out, but the roads were terrible. The smart people stayed home, but we could not be stopped.

On the way to Nana’s, big-sister piped up from the back seat that her tummy hurt, then barfed all over herself, the car seat, and me. Hubby whipped the car into the nearest parking lot: Kentucky Fried Chicken. I ushered her through the blizzard and into the bathroom to clean her up and assess the damage while hubby cleaned the stinky, vomit-soaked car seat with diaper wipes. 

We told ourselves that she had probably just eaten something that disagreed with her and slid across the parking lot to Target for a quick change of clothes for the two of us and a package of disinfectant wipes. 

We wore our new, clean clothes out of the store and pressed on, dropping the girls of with an agreeable Nana, and continuing on only to discover that our restaurant was gone! At some point in the last three years, they tore it down and no one bothered to tell us. The nerve.

By now it was quite clear that we should have stayed home. The universe was conspiring against us, but we weren’t about to turn back now. We opted for the closest bar, which happened to serve up a tasty burrito, and had ourselves a meal with some adult beverages and adult conversation.

It was great, but by the time we got back for the girls it was getting late and they were tired. In no time flat, I was back in the car listening to two crying daughters and a song about Little Jack Horner.

The date part of the night was great, but we’re still getting used to the fact that bad weather, sick kids and a changing restaurant scene are all part of our new “normal” as parents. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But it’s sure not as easy as the old, DINK normal, is it?