Dinner for Two, and a half

It's quite possible that I never would have had a baby, had I only listened to "her."
One day, a few years ago, I was listening to a friend talk about how since she'd had her baby, she'd been confined to her house for a year.

She said once you had a baby, you were a prisoner to the poo, to the spitup, to the Barney videos, to the Tickle Me Elmos, to the Mother Goose nursery rhymes.

She said once she became a mother, she, the woman, vanished.

There's no "me" in teamwork, or baby, apparently.

I will never forget her saying that all she really wanted in life was just one day where she could leave the house - showered - and go for a latte.

One latte would make everything OK, she said.

It was then and there I decided that, hell no, I was not going to create some baby jailhouse for myself. How pathetic a life is it if you can't even go out for one damn coffee?

But, of course, once you meet your own McDreamy, you instantly want his baby, so ta da! – now I have a child.

But forget coffee with your girls, dinner with your sweetie, alone time strolling downtown, a half hour to watch My Fair Brady? I think not.

So, all you little 20-something ladies, who have sworn off babies because you've had some lazy twit tell you your life will be over with a baby, listen up.

Babies do cramp your style. They like to cry just ... as... you're ... about ... to ... kiss ... your sweetie (WAAAGHHHHHH! WAAGGHHH!) but it's possible to still have some style to cramp.

You just got to work a little harder, tis all.

The other night, the BF and I (that's him in the pic. Isn't he hot?) went out to one of our favourite restaurants, Amadeus Cafe.

We booked ahead and asked for table No. 1 (that's the sweet one up front in the window that overlooks Princess Street) and made sure we had some dinner for Little Man too - ah, the magic of breast pumps. You should go there, tell em SarahCrosbie.com sent you.

Over shared escargot (by far the best in the city), schnitzel and spatzle for him and filet of sole for me, and two glasses of red wine, we lost ourselves in our romantic dinner. Though the restaurant was packed, it felt like it was just the two and a half of us sitting there (and gurgling in our car seat).

It felt, dare I say it, like old times. Like when it was just us. Two fools in love.

Like old times, we eavesdropped on people, stared at others and tried to guess whether they were a) just friends; b) a couple with a listless marriage; c) siblings, and talked about the years past and the years to come.

And then, like I can always depend on him to do, the BF leaned in, whispered to me that I'm beautiful, (apparently more beautiful than ever) and told me that he had to kiss me right there and then.

No, we couldn't then go out and drink too many glasses of Shiraz like we used to, but we did linger a little longer and had a cup of coffee to cap off the night.

And guess what we did yesterday? We went to Starbucks and had - wait for it - lattes! (Yes, with Little Man in tow.)

I'm no superwoman. I have nailpolish on my toes from early August that's pretty grody right now. I haven't Windexed my house since the summer (or ever). I have baby thank-you notes to still send. But when something is important to you, you've got to work on it, work for it and what's more important than life?

Monday on Oprah, Jennifer Aniston was hyping her new short, Room 10, a movie that's part of Glamour magazine's Reel Moments series, where woman tell empowering, personal stories.

The story is about a nurse at a hospital who must confront marital problems.

She meets a man who's been married for more than 60 years. His wife is dying, moments away from leaving him.

The nurse, in the story, tells him he was a lucky man to be married, in love, for so long.

The man tells her luck has nothing to do with it. He said marriage, and love, is all about "staying in the room," meaning you've got to be there, you've got to fight, hold tight and never, ever for a second, take it for granted.

That's what motherhood, I think, is like (even though I've only been doing it for seven weeks.) You've got to live it, love the exhaustion and incorporate your new child, your new existence, into the life you already have.

And if you're too damn tired, worn out, gross, to go out and get a latte, tell your partner/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend to get off the tushie and go get you your grande, non fat, extra hot, wet, vanilla latte.

After all, we're the ones who pushed these kiddies out.

Surely, that's worth a steamed beverage.


And for you smart cookies who thought the BF looked a little familiar? Well, that's because this is my other squeeze, John Cusack, the actor who made me believe that life can be like a romantic comedy. I have no idea if he's a dinkwad in real life but in Say Anything, High Fidelity and Serendipity, and even the horrid Must Love Dogs, he's the guy who makes the girl feel like a princess, a princess who can have her latte and drink it too!