Tales from date night. 

Every once and awhile Nick and I hire a babysitter and emerge into Norfolk’s bustling night life as fully fledged adults.

“Here we are world!” We shout.  And the world’s just like “Tone down the enthusiasm, it’s a dinner date, not space exploration.” I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the world is cruel.

 For our most recent date night Nick and I choose a fine hipster establishment serving southern cuisine.  They have roof top dining so it was pretty much heavenly.

Every waiter was a hipster.  Hipsters fascinate me.  Who were you before you bought these skinny man jeggings?  When do things become too ironic even for you?  Do you secretly like Pumpkin Spice Lattes over cold brew coffee?  Do you have a cat named Chairman Meow?

  Thoughts on locally sourced honey. 

 Being around hipsters prompted us to ask these questions of our food: is this honey from urban backyard bees?  Who were these bees friends? Did the flowers they frequent grow in certified organic neighborhood gardens?  I’d like a list of the flowers visited because I am so not into GMO’s.


Nick and I decided to get drinks.  This was our first date without Henry and we really wanted to live it up.  I decided to drink just enough to start laughing at my own obscure Lord of the Rings jokes.  “Is it secret?  Is it safe??”  You had to be drunk there.

Date night.  I could sing your praises all night if I were able, but this date night was a week ago and I kind of need another one because I’m just plain tired.  Until next time starry eyed husband!  See you soon cocktail napkins and uninterrupted conversation!

And that’s how I got pregnant again.

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