Did you hear?

Last Saturday? I left the house, which was actually my old man's house, and in my purse? I DID NOT HAVE A DIAPER!

I know you what you are thinking.

You are thinking this is a post either about: a.) more hot mess mama episodes in ill-preparedness

- or -

b.) the sweet miracle of potty training.

I can assure you it is about neither of the above!

Rather, I departed with handbag SANS diaper expressly on purpose.

Because hubaloves and moi had ourselves a date night!! It was sublime!

My cousin Ryan married his beautiful bride Rachel, which gave us excuse to drive nine hours to the CleveLAND THAT I LOVE, and see my big fat Irish family, and dance until the true measure of our deodorant would be tested.

Date nights are always rare and delightful but not many involve fancy cheeses and singing 867-530-NIIIYEEEYIIIYEEN with all of your coolest cousins.

Big props to Big Pops and Nana J for tending to my kiddies who make me very proud indeed that they are no longer basketcases when I leave and are actually almost alarmingly chill about my whisking away into the night with the sweet fellow that I so adore.