Parents' Evening

Something quite radical happened on Wednesday evening: FH and I went out to a dinner party. Together.

In order for this to happen, of course, someone had to come and look after the kids, and that someone was an 18 year old girl named L. who we'd never met before. In other words, as I whined to FH, a total stranger.
The point was, I was half torn up with worry about the idea of leaving the boys with a babysitter, and half looking for a pretext not to venture out but simply slip into bed with a book ASAP (i.e. pursue my usual post-boy bedtime project).
But something about the manly way FH insisted that we "needed a break" convinced me. In a decidedly non-PC way, I rather liked the authoritative tone in which he said this.

So, the babysitter came at 8, and we all hung out together for half an hour, just to make sure she wasn't a freak and the boys didn't hate her (and vice versa). I watched her like a hawk, all the while making friendly, breezy conversation and showing her where all the essentials were located (Sex & the City DVD collection, for example).
Of course, there was no need to worry. It was blindingly obviously that she was absolutely lovely from the minute she walked in. By the time FH and I left at 8.30, BB was so absorbed in the story she was reading him (I swear he was actually batting his eyelashes at her: a shameful ripple of jealousy ran through me...), he barely even acknowledged us.

And it was fun to get out. My head was swimming, my eyelids were drooping, but at least we were out of the house and in company, and that felt like something of an achievement.

And now we have ourselves a babysitter.
It's hard to let go, it's hard to make guilt-free time for yourself, it's hard to admit that another person can look after your kids just as well as you can, at least temporarily.
But in order to be a good parent, it's probably vital to do all of the above.