I can count the times I've spent a weekend away with my husband since Ginger was born on one hand. We don't do date night, we all go out together. Him, me, Miss G and Ginge. We used to spend more time without Miss G when there was only her because she was more difficult as a small child, I was more fragile, I needed time to myself, I didn't juggle well back then.
I was a young newly-wed and mother in the same year. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I was full of the arrogance of youth and knew best. And crashed and burned more times than I care to remember.
But then I felt strong enough to try again and bring another little person into the world - I had learned from mistakes made first time round.
Pregnancy with Ginger was different. It was hellish. It was heaven. My life was turned upside down. I was 30. Older and wiser and a better parent but obviously once you think you have things nailed something else goes wrong and you find yourself spiralling down a different rabbit hole. I surprised myself, I surprised most people around me, I coped with disaster in a way that I didn't think I was capable of.
Long and short of it, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Life is too short to regret things or fill yourself with despair. Children don't stay small long enough for you to fully appreciate those times. So we spend our free time together and if we want to try new restaurants or experiences we all try them.
But this past weekend Miss G was in Spain with her best friend and her family and we took the chance to spend a little time alone and left Ginger with Granny.
Alone, but with friends and staying up 'til the wee hours. Sleeping in until 10.30am. Sleeping next to my husband without someone poky and starfish shaped in the middle of the bed.
I'd forgotten how much I missed it.