"Carrie, Party of One!"

Tonight was my first date-night with myself. I went out after my first day back to work after two weeks off and I certainly needed the treat (I've said it before and I'm saying it again - babies are exhausting). I went to a favourite restaurant and tried something new, which was fun and delish.

I must admit though that I'm having a bit of a not so great day. I'm not sure if it is the return to work, the aching muscles (so jazzed to run again tomorrow at 6:30am, really), or just a natural low after being excited for so much over the past few weeks. Maybe all of the above. Tonight definitely wasn't how I envisioned self-date night to be. I wanted it be a time to think, reflect, and give myself a pat on the back for things accomplished and plan ahead. I wanted it to be a night of self-care: to spend time treating myself well and maybe spoiling myself a little. Instead I felt really unmotivated to do anything nice for myself, tried to talk myself out of going, and spent a good portion of the meal engrossed in a book (a very good book, but that isn't the point). Honestly, I mostly felt rotten. And while it was a total treat to have a tasty meal cooked, served and cleaned up for me, I left not really feeling like I had gotten what I was looking for.

Not that I'm trying to garner sympathy - I'm not. I just don't see the point of coming home from a long, tiring, and mentally sucky day to write a post that is a complete lie.

The night won't be a total loss. I have a bath cooling off as I type, the second half of a great novel to read, and the reassurance that even if today was icky, tomorrow will be here all too soon.

Seriously - 6:30am to run?! What was I thinking?

My job may be exhausting, but sometimes I get catch the babies holding hands in the stroller.
So it isn't all bad.