Saturday-night lipstick? Check.

Chandelier earrings? Check.

Kiddie snacks? Sippy cup? Diaper bag? Nope. Nada. No way!

And we were rolling down the freeway, whooping like giddy teenagers. There were no kids where my husband and I were headed: on our first real date in 4 1/2 years, sans our two little sidekicks.

I hadn't been a big believer in "date nights" for married couples. Yes, I'd read articles and heard other couples preach about how it's critical to keep romancing each other after you become parents. But I'd shrugged at the date-night concept. You've already taken the vow of together forever, for better or worse, for toilet-training and tantrums. Why add courting to your overflowing laundry hamper of responsibilities, right?

But every relationship needs a boost now and then, especially because raising kids brings roadblocks to romance that you just never see coming.

First, there are the earliest days of parenthood, when you bring your first baby home, and the laws of nature dictate that you direct all your energy to the smallest, most helpless creature in the house, who is depending on you for sheer survival. That first shift in your relationship as a couple comes down to simple math: More hours with your eyes and hands on the baby means fewer hours with your eyes — and, er, hands — on your mate.

Then, more changes, some so subtle you hardly notice at first: Pushing a strollerful of baby while your mate rides herd on a speedy toddler makes it impossible for you two to hold hands. Your libido withers after tending a wailing infant two or three times a night for months, or spending a long day barking, "Time out!" Some hectic days you can't even get around to showering off the aroma of spitup and rancid jam. And forget sneaking in an amorous hug now and then, because sweaty, noisy children cutting in have a way of killing the mood.

You know deep down that changes like these are part and parcel of the blessing and privilege of having kids. Yet you also know the connection with your mate isn't what it once was. So you keep telling yourself this is just a stage, a hectic season that will pass. Yet 4 1/2 years later, "hectic season" is still here.

So we made our date, but we didn't call it a "date night." We didn't even plan it together. I simply found an e-mail from the hubby one day asking me to request an evening off from the office. For a surprise.

I bit my nails. We'd never left the kids behind for a whole evening. They're so rambunctious, the 2-year-old still so clingy. But I took a deep breath and recruited an army of baby sitters: my parents, plus an aunt who brought along my 11-year-old cousin. That day, my husband got the old Camry washed and purged of dried-up french fries. I readied the kids' food, meds and PJs while mentally changing outfits three times. When the baby-sitting squad showed up, my mom and aunt hovered over me trying to get me to wear more blush; I guess they figured I'd forgotten how.

Finally, my husband and I walked out the front door, and there was just ... us.

It had been so long since "just us" that the first few moments were surprisingly first-date awkward. But gradually, the small gestures that used to connect us, that familiar choreography of couplehood, began to come back.

With just us, he could open the car door for me like a gentleman since he wasn't having to wrestle kids into car seats. I could enter the car like a lady, and even sit like one since I didn't have to steady a diaper bag between my ankles.

In the restaurant, we could listen to each other's stories uninterrupted by kiddie bickering. We could savor our meal, because we were not obligated to cut it into microscopic pieces or simultaneously play keep-away with the baby over the forks.

At the show, we could relax deep into the seats, trade whispered jokes and hold hands. We could even make a late-night impromptu stop in a karaoke bar, because we didn't have to make any small person's bedtime.

The next morning it was necessarily back to dishes and paperwork and diapers, but something small had changed. Again, a subtle shift. I saw my husband a little differently, a little more clearly, more appreciatively.

Date nights are not going to patch all the cracks in your relationship and your life. But some days now, just knowing my husband still likes to hold my hand and open doors for me is enough.