Dating Post-Baby

R and I took a trip into a world of childless, party people last night on our first date since the babe was born. We went downtown to a club called Avalon for an Amy Winehouse concert while Samara stayed home with her Aunt Mariel and my parents.

I was incredibly nervous when I left, leaving detailed written instructions and three pumped bottles for the three hours we would be gone. All day I contemplated cancelling the date, especially when my good friend called as we were walking out the door and she pointed out that she had not been on a date since her daughter was born EIGHT MONTHS AGO. Are we bad parents for going out so early?

When we used to go out, I had a selection of clothes that I wore for the occassion--Bustier tops, nice jeans, high heels. Not only were none of those pieces of clothing appropriate, very few fit. I finally settled on a baby doll top with some sequins and beading. When I bought it two years ago, I spent way too much on it, but joked that it would be useful when I was pregnant since all of my other clothing hugged my waistline. I was right.

Getting dressed, I felt like a high school nerd trying on the prom queen's clothing. Everything felt a little silly for my current role. My nursing boobs gave me some interesting cleavage, though. Had I needed a boob job, I would have been pleased.

Walking down Landsdowne Street and joining the crowd with their tight clothing, varying hair colors and tattoos, I felt a little out of place. I kept wondering if I looked different (besides being 12 pounds heavier). Could they tell I was someone's mom? Even when I was cool, I was never actually cool. Now I am tragically unhip. Luckily we have hip, childless friends we met on the inside. I ordered a Midori sour (I pumped myself raw so I could imbibe) and pretended like I was not checking my cell phone one a minute to make sure Mariel had not called.

Amy Winehouse was great. And our conversational topics? Samara, Samara, Samara. But the evening reminded us that we were a couple before we were a threesome. We held hands, danced and relived our past, replete with overpriced drinks, tight crowds and the damp, sweet smell of pot smoke on a warm evening.