A Mom's Vacation

Even though I have an out-of-office reply set on my work email, I've still checked it once a day. I've still returned several emails. I've still had to email both freelance jobs that I am taking a few days off. I'll be back on the grid next week. Carry on without me. 

Today, I slept in until 9:50. 

I was supposed to get the kids up at 10:00, so we could drive to a nearby town and check it out before the mask-less crowds hit. 

But the cabin was silent. It was overcast outside and looked like rain. Tomorrow we have to check out of the cabin by 10:00.

 

I wanted coffee, a crossword puzzle. I wanted to sit and do absolutely nothing. 

 

I did not want to get the kids up at 10:00 so that we could drive to a nearby town. I did not want to hear complaining, arguing, and lectures on how I'm doing yet another thing wrong. 

 

And so I spontaneously decided that today was a "me day." A day off. The last day of our vacation when I don't have to wake up, plan meals, plan activities, nag everyone, break up arguments, clean up at the end of the day, take the garbage out, drive several hours, shower, or even put makeup on if I don't feel like it. 

 

Jennifer Chen on Unsplash

I made a pot of coffee, grabbed a crossword puzzle, and sat on the deck in the Amish rocker. 

Everyone else woke up 2 hours later. 

Sam was irate. Why didn't I follow through on our plans? Why didn't I wake them up like I said I would? Why did I bother to make plans if I wasn't going to do them?

 

And I answered, "Why don't I get a vacation, too?" 

 

... 

  

I don't think he'd ever considered that idea before. 

... 

Moms don't really ever get a vacation. 

From the first moment they find out they are pregnant (and all society's rules and judgment start piling on: what you can do, can't do, can eat, can't eat, can drink, can't drink) until the day the kids move out of the house, moms don't really get to take a day --a real day-- for themselves. Even if moms go away for the day, they need to first organize and arrange everything, including meals and activities and rides and childcare, before they get to breathe. Even when we go camping, which is about as much vacation as I can create, I am still in charge of activities, meals, cleaning, showers, bedtime. I am still in charge of negotiations and navigations. I am still in charge of creating the vacation. 

 

Even today, on my self-declared "me day," I have already done two loads of laundry. I've checked the weather 3 times. I've mapped out our drive tomorrow. I've read the instructions and found the dumpster for when we check out. In just a few minutes, I'll find places for take-out, I'll place the orders, I'll drive to pick up the meals, I'll pay, I'll bring them home, I'll console and apologize when Sam's meal is inevitably wrong again (it's always wrong), I'll try to find something for Helena to eat when she decides she doesn't like what I got her, I'll play countless games of Pacman with Sam, I'll pour them into bed, and then I'll breathe. 

I'm not good at taking time for myself. I've said this before. 

But even when I insist that I am going to take some time for me, I can't really. I'm a mom, and moms don't ever really get a break. Mind you, I'm not complaining. I love my kids. I even love (mostly) being a mom. But I also realize that I had to say that, I had to say "I'm not complaining," because someone inevitably will read this and tell me to be thankful for everything I have, tell me to be happy that I was able to have kids, guilt me for feeling like I deserve just a little bit of time for me, tell me to own the choices I made and stop complaining.

I think I'm going to grab a beer and another crossword puzzle while I wait for the laundry to finish. 

Then I will get out of this rocking chair and on with the day.