Time Away


Listen.  I'll be the very first person to tell you that, despite my recurring complaints and sometimes excessive level of stress, I love my job.  I wouldn't trade being home with my boys for any other job in the world and I feel very fortunate to have the option to do it.  I do not take that for granted, believe me.

But mama needs time away.  Or I'm gonna snap.

The Man and I are very supportive of each other's needs in this regard and for that, I am extremely grateful.  With this supportive spirit in mind, The Man and I agreed that I could go on a week long yoga retreat so long as it didn't mean he would have to take a week off work to take care of the kids and we wouldn't have to spend a fortune on babysitting.  That left us with his parents or mine.

Not only are his parents willing to take them, my MIL is rearranging her own vacation in order to be available and she is really stoked about having them spend a week in her home. Hells to the yea!  Sandy beaches, sunrise yoga, and sundown cocktails here I come!

But before a stay at home mom gets to luxuriate in the absence of her spawn, she has hella hoops to jump through.  I'm not saying it's not TOTALLY worth it, because it absolutely is, it just takes a ton of work to get some time away.  A synopsis of the entire production may look something like:
  1. Pump and freeze 128 freaking ounces of boob juice.  128 ounces! Better get started because it's going to take about 85 days and a few clogged milk ducts to get that much.
  2. Peel, steam, puree, and freeze pounds and pounds and pounds of fruit and veggies for the baby to eat because you know, you can't have him eating store bought food just because you're lazing about on a beach in the tropics.
  3. Pack obscene quantities of clothing, toys, lovies, white noise machines, toys, books, shoes, diapers, undies, wipes, on and on and on till the suitcases (and your arteries) burst.
  4. Find and buy dry ice to pack the hard earned breast nectar because if that shiz melts on the way it was all for not and you may flip the fuck out.
  5. Put the kids in the car and drive 525 miles to the grandparents' house. Hellish?  Nah.  It's super fun to watch Frozen on repeat for eight hours or so and listen to boys crying/screaming/talking incessantly about fictional characters.
  6. Deposit your children safely into the loving arms of the grandparents.  Yahoo! But wait...
  7. Get back in a car and drive 100 miles to the nearest airport.  
  8. This is where it starts sounding stupid.  Starts?  I know, I know.  FLY back to Houston where you started.
  9. Exhale and hit the nearest airport bar to pound ritas till your lips pucker up.  You're on vacation mofos!
  10. Hit the plane with a nice lean and officially leave the country and your parenting duties behind.  
  11. Get your vacation on!  Sleep, sleep, eat, do yoga, drink, sleep, lay around, etc.  One week later…
  12. Fly to the airport nearest your in-laws.
  13. Drive 100 miles to their house and collect your kiddos.  Yahoo!  You missed them, didn't you?
  14. Drive 525 miles home again while clinging desperately to the state of zen you achieved in savasana in the sand.
  15. Unpack, unpack, unpack, wash clothes, wash your kids, wash yourself and maybe cry a little.
  16. Take the next several weeks (months?) to get your kids back on a routine and used to hearing the word no again.  
I don't want to single out stay at home moms here so I wanted to also include an example for those fortunate working dads who have negotiated a little time away from the family.  
  1. Pack a carry-on with personal items.
  2. Drive to the airport.  
Just saying.  

Photo Credit Matt Carter's Author Page.  

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