Children may be far away, but they're never far from our thoughtsIt finally happened. For the first time since giving birth to my daughter two days before Mother's Day in 2001, I spent the night away from both my children.
I consider this recent weekend getaway a significant event in my life as a parent. For me, it ranks right up there with my daughter's first day at preschool, the first time I left her with a baby sitter, and the first time someone (other than my husband or myself) drove her somewhere without one of us also in the car.
As I write, my daughter's birthday looms in the back of my mind; she will be a 5 year-old within a week. Countless "firsts" remain in our future together as mother and daughter, but my overnighter away from her seems significant in some way.
About a year earlier I went to San Jose to celebrate a friend's birthday. My son, Berkeley, stayed behind with my husband while Barcelona accompanied me as she had on jaunts to the Bay Area before her brother was born. At night we shared a bed, snuggled together like hibernating bears. She slept sweaty and restless in the crook of my arm and I barely got any rest. When I returned home the next day, my 1-year-old son chose to ignore me -- payback, I suspect, for not taking him with us.
A year later, I looked forward to a full weekend away without either child. I would not describe myself as eager, per se, more curious than anything else. What would it be like? How would my husband do? Would I ever be able to go away again after all was said and done?
Prior to my departure I made sure everything was in order: clothes and dishes were clean and put away, the freezer and cupboard stocked with simple meals my husband could prepare within minutes, outfits for each child set aside for the next two days, a well-stocked diaper bag, and a detailed list of instructions. I even laid out fresh pajamas for my children, put toothpaste on their toothbrushes, and turned down their beds. A little over the top, perhaps, but it made leaving the house easier for me.
The three-hour drive to Monterey was smooth, no traffic and no potty breaks. I listened to music of my own choosing -- no Raffi this trip! -- with the windows rolled down and the volume turned up. It reminded me of my many road trips before marriage and children.
When I arrived to my destination, a three-story beach house in Pajaro Dunes, I found half a dozen other women eating their lunch out on the deck, their eyes fixed on the breathtaking view of the ocean. For the next two days I would either work on scrapbook page layouts, take walks on the beach, sit on the deck, or eat gourmet meals prepared by someone else. It was truly fabulous.
But admittedly, even though I was there without my children, they were not far from my mind. Most photos I placed on scrapbook pages were of them and often I would pause to show the pictures to the other women there. When I walked on the beach, I collected shells of different shapes and textures with my daughter in mind. While I dined with the other women, all moms, our conversations often turned to the topic of our children ages 2 to 20 between the lot of us.
The first night I called and asked Barcelona what she had for dinner. When she answered "cheeseburger" I joked with my husband Happy Meals were not on the list of approved dinners I left for him. In reality, I was pleased. The kids sounded happy and my husband did not sound stressed out.
A couple of women left the next day, one called home by request of a sick child and the other by a husband. When a third woman checked in, her husband uttered those words we stay-at-home moms yearn to hear, "I don't know how you do it by yourself. She did a little dance while we cheered her long-awaited validation.
When I called my home, both kids were napping after spending the morning with their dad and grandmother at the Scottish Games. That evening was just relaxing as the first, maybe even more so thanks to a dip in the hot tub and a chocolate fondue night cap.
In the morning all of us were pretty quiet as we packed up to leave the beach house, the beach, each other. Some of the other women were friends before the weekend, but those who had been strangers seemed like old acquaintances a mere 48 hours later. We exchanged hugs, some phone numbers, and of course promises to see each other again at next year's retreat.
I looked forward to my three-hour drive home not with remorse but instead a renewed of self. I brought home with me three large artichokes for my husband (he loves them!), a half flat of fresh strawberries for my children, and a bag full of sand dollars and other sea shells for Barcelona. The weekend was a wonderful respite from my mommy duties, yet I remained a wife and mother the whole time I was gone.
Mommy Time Column ~ June 2006
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