So last night Hubs and I were feeling gooooood (now that we have recovered from the flu) and decided to up the ante a bit on the 30-days-to-more-intimacy experiment.

Falling asleep holding hands was a fantastic first step, (and about all we could muster at the time) but now we were both ready to dive right in….. (to the experiment of course!)

And how nice that we were both in the mood. Steve, it’s working already!

So we briefly checked on the kids (who were all sound asleep), and snuck into the bedroom, feeling a bit like two teenagers who were about to do something they aught not to.

And with Pink Martini’s Sympathique playing gently in the background we dove under the covers.

We were in the heat of passion when I heard the unmistakable sound of a small child tapping on the door.

Followed by, “MOMMMMMMMY!”… and in walked M.

F**K!

We quickly disentangled ourselves and I sat up.

Before I could even ask what was wrong, she blurted out, “Pinky’s dead!” (Pinky being M’s goldfish.)

Tears were in full force and I tried to console her as we walked back to her bedroom. Sure enough Pinky was floating belly-up in her little round bowl.

By now Hubs was in the room too. After reassuring M. that Pinky was now swimming around in Goldfish Heaven, he picked up the bowl and made a discrete exit.

Just as I saw him walk across the hall and into the bathroom M. wailed out, “We have to bury Pinky in the garden!”

I called out to Hubs (thank God I hadn’t heard him flush yet), “Sweetie, we have to bury Pinky in the garden.”

I explained to M. that it was really cold and dark outside, and that we would bury Pinky in the daytime. She seemed alright with that but continued to cry herself out. I tucked her up in bed and stayed until she fell back asleep - with her sweet, little tearstained cheeks absolutely breaking my heart.

Meanwhile, Pinky was put in a little, plastic baggy and she now temporarily resides in the freezer between the frozen peas and ice cream.

Hubs and I went back to the bedroom, but the mood was completely gone. So we got snugly and fell asleep holding hands - again!

So much for that “sacred couple time” (with no interruptions). I’m beginning to wonder if Steve actually has kids…

Have you ever had this experience?

My sweetie and I finally had more than a moment alone together. The daily distractions of life (work, technology, even the kiddies) had blissfully disappeared for the evening and there was time to take a deep breath and rekindle romance.

I was a goddess incarnate feeling sassy…sexy…sublime in my black lace and red lipstick. A hot shower, close shave, and cologne had transformed him once again into the man who stole my heart. The candles were lit, red wine was flowing, and sinful food waited on the table.

I said “Honey, would you put on some music?”

I was thinking Pink Martini, Billy Holiday, or Astrud Gilberto… something soothing and romantic, the perfect backdrop to our time alone. I was off on a pink cloud picturing Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing along to Astrud’s Fly Me To The Moon. I sighed and was swept away in anticipation of the evening to come…

“WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE! WE GOT FUN ‘N’ GAMES!”

Snapping back to reality, I wondered, “What made him think I meant his ‘Best of Butt Rock’ playlist?”

I sat at the table dazed. He smiled, oblivious to my confusion while he grabbed some food and sent me a wink on his way to the couch.

Slowly, as the GNR assault screeched on, the lyrics of another song flowed through my mind:

“Did I shave my legs for this? Darlin did I shave my legs for this?”