Paid Vacation


Motherhood should come with two weeks paid vacation.  Time spent alone – or with other moms seeking respite from their own families.  The vacation should be covered by husbands who do everything the right way – you know, our way – the entire time we are gone.  After all, this is the only way they will ever truly appreciate what we do, right?

Although I may not get two weeks paid vacation from mothering (And who would really want two full weeks away?  I guess if you could take it in chunks…), I did manage to get a weekend away by myself.  In Miami.  With a room right on the beach.  And do you know what I did?  Probably the same thing any one of you would do.

I relished in sleeping in my own bed with no one to wake me up in the morning for a diaper change or to go outside (we have a dog, too).  I woke up and watched the sun rise (OK, maybe you wouldn’t have done that.  But, I had to go to the bathroom and figured I’d check out the view.).  I had breakfast by myself (it wasn’t fabulous, but it was free).  Perhaps most importantly, I sat by the pool in the sun and read for 6.5 hours.  I ventured down to the beach a few times and stuck my feet in.  I swam in the pool.  I had a drink.  Eventually, I made my way inside and got dressed for a run.  It wasn’t long – just a mile and a half up the road.  Then I walked back through the water on the beach.  I finished the day by getting my nails done and taking myself out for a nice dinner.  It was the perfect day.

Sunday really started off, well, in a bizarre way.  I had a massage scheduled.  The massage therapist wasn’t there, so they told me to sit in the sauna.  Which I did.  For twenty minutes.  And then the lady came in.  She had me take a shower and lie down on the portable massage table.  In the middle of the locker room.  With all the lights on.  And the bass pumping in from the gym.  Oh, and she wore plastic gloves.  You cannot make this stuff up.  I only booked it because I had a 50% off coupon from Living Social.  The fitness center told me the massage was $100, which, by my calculations, should have been $50.  It was $60.  Don’t you know?  The woman raises her price to $110 for Living Social clients.  Which, if you’ve kept up, is still baffling.  Because, yes, 50% of $110 is $55, not $60.  I’m still working on that one.

I managed to get three hours by the pool in before I had to leave for the airport and return to reality.  But the beauty of it was that I was ready.  I wanted to come home to my little boy.  I would have liked to come home to my doting husband, but he was off for a week of travel before I got home.

Now, did he do everything the way I would have?  Absolutely not.  But, everyone was alive when I got back.  So, pants-optional Sunday, CapriSuns, and man-time be what it may, I’m glad they got the time together.  And I’m glad I got my time alone.  I can appreciate what I have so much more now that I’m in my right mind to appreciate it all.


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