Parent's Night Out

I am going out to eat at a nice restaurant this evening and thought about getting a little more dressed up than usual. It’s a fun thing to do. Make yourself a martini or pour a glass of scotch or wine while getting ready. Turn on some mood music depending on the occasion.

It got me thinking to when I was younger, say before age 9, when my siblings and I would watch my parents get ready for a night out on the town. The smell of Mom’s perfume and Dad’s cologne still permeates these memories. We would watch them get gussied up in suit and dress. Mom would finish picking out her jewelry with Sheryl’s help. Dad would put on the little light in his closet and enlist Adam’s and my help in picking out that perfect tie. We would giggle and laugh at them while sitting with our legs crossed on their oh-so big bed, the small black and white TV on in the background.

Dad and Mom looked like the king and queen of the castle. They would sometimes have a cocktail first. Mom, a glass of Gallo or Mateus rose’ wine. Dad, a Dewars Scotch on the rocks or a bottle of Piels beer. Dad would let us have a sip of his Scotch or beer.

Pretty soon, before Sheryl was old enough to watch us, the baby sitter would come by. Usually it would be Betty Jane or her sister Susan Miller from next door. The evening would be spent watching TV or playing games with my siblings. There would be a dessert or snack worthy of keeping me happy and quiet. Although if it had a lot of sugar, you could guarantee it would keep this hyperactive child up quite late! Bed time would be at 9 or 10 pm. It was a special night since Mom and Dad were out, so we would probably coax the babysitter into letting us stay up a little later.

I don’t remember any of the baby sitters reading me stories. They just put us to bed. Sheryl would stay up later with them. Dad was the story reader in the family. I have fond memories of him reading from Aesop’s Fables using different funny voices for each character in the stories.

On babysitting nights, Adam and I would secretly stay up after we were put to bed. We would play until the dropping of a toy or getting too rough with one another would cause my sister or the babysitter to yell upstairs for us to get back to bed.

Eventually, I would be stirred from a restless sleep by Mom and Dad when they arrived home and came upstairs to check on us. We were lucky children. My parents were very affectionate and hugs were plentiful. I don’t think I ever slept very well until I got that kiss and hug from them, thus assuring myself of their safe return.