Here's my confession: I had a date yesterday. Yes, me...happily married for close to 20 years...four kids...respected member of the community...(okay, the last one is a stretch but the first two are accurate and for a weatherman, two out of three is exceptional.) Anyway, I went out for coffee and a movie (A Prairie Home Companion--great!) with a woman. True, the woman was my wonderful wife, Jessica, but it is still kind of a big deal to actually have a date. Our kids are all old enough, now, that we don't have to find a baby-sitter, a task we weren't very good at anyway.

When the big boys were little, their baby-sitters were grandmas and grandpas when those special people were visiting. My wife's parents would actually disappear with the boys for an entire day...leaving us to our own devices. We spent most of the time talking about how cute, funny and bright the boys were. Another time, a trusted, long-time friend offered to watch the kids so we could go see James Taylor at Starlight. A couple of his songs, Only One and Ev'ryday, had been sort of "our songs" when we were courting...do you see how out-of-touch, I am? I used the word "courting!" Before kids, we'd been to a James Taylor concert and had a great time so we were excited about this return engagement. Well, about half-way through the show, Jessica and I looked at each other and decided we missed the kids...forget Fire and Rain we desired Diapers and Spit-up.

After that we decided we'd just wait until the oldest was old enough to baby-sit. Then, an event came up we really wanted to attend. It was a tribute to Bill and Fran Grigsby out at the stadium. No family was coming to town and we were in a quandary about who would watch the kids...four of them, now. Thanks to some neighbors we connected with a very responsible high-schooler who agreed to watch the bunch. It was all set...we drove out to Arrowhead and got on a trolley from the parking lot to the practice facility where the gala was being held. We shared the ride with Mr. and Mrs. George Brett. (Please, forgive my name-dropping and rest assured that none of these folks...The Grigsby's or the Bretts' or any of the local glitterati at the banquet...had any idea who we were.) We had just gotten settled in at the table we were sharing with my boss...after convincing the folks at the door we really were in the right place...when the boss' cell phone rang. It was KMBC trying to track me down because the babysitter said Taylor was having an asthma attack and the sitter had forgotten what to do. We called our house, got the medicine to Taylor (luckily, it was a minor episode) and immediately left the event. On the way home, we came to a final decision about no more babysitters. No fault of the sitters, it just didn't seem worth the headaches...and, besides, we missed the little knuckleheads more than we enjoyed whatever was coming up. So, we saved our worry and our money, figuring the day would come when we could more easily go out...alone. (Jessica did suggest I could babysit and she could start dating again but she was just kidding...I think.)

Our kids readily encourage our new efforts at a social life...after all, they have more active calendars than we do and, contrary to the Harry Chapin song, instead of "when you comin' home dad...I don't know when" it's more "when you gonna leave dad...you're still here again." There are a few glitches: until the boys have their licenses, we are on-call for pick-up and delivery to the jobs we urged them to get. I'm thinking of having a meter installed in my car...they're earning money they can afford taxi fare. And, speaking of money, it is a cruel twist that once you have the time to do things like go on a date with your spouse and the opportunity because your kids are old enough and the guilt-free mind-set because your children are happily involved in their own things...well, then you really can't afford it anymore. Although, with both older boys working, it has made my middle-of-the-night raids on their wallets more fruitful. I used to do it just to find a dollar to join the PowerBall collection at work...but now it may turn into a dating slush fund...or "hush" fund since I appropriate it while they are sleeping.

So, with no need for baby-sitters and cash at the ready, don't be surprised if you start to see me out and about with a beautiful woman and, if you ask me, "Who was that lady I saw you with last night?" I can honestly answer "That was no lady...that was my wife!"