Your Date Night is Better Than my Date Night.

Andrew Davis

by | Updated: December 4th, 2016 | Read time: 1 minute

I know it is, because my date night starts out at a nice restaurant, with ambitious plans to watch a 10 p.m. movie or go to a local comedy club afterwards–but almost always ends up at the bookstore down the street from the restaurant, where the two of us sit like lumps in the cafe, flipping through books and magazines until we yawn and send the babysitter home early.

This cute, sweet guy I’m married to–who changes diapers and signs the backs of report cards and has Barbie tea parties–I have vague memories of dancing with him.

Was that at our wedding 11 years ago? Someone else’s wedding? I guess it doesn’t matter. I think one day when our kids are older–a lot older–we’ll slap on some Bengay and go cut a rug and paint the town red.

In the meantime, there’s no one else I’d rather yawn at from across a bookstore cafe table.

Jorie is the “Vitamom” who edits She has three kids, ages 20 months to 9 years. And yes, she does drink a lot of coffee, lightened with Almond Breeze Vanilla (yum!).