Coming Up For (Ocean) Air
I have a friend who I really like. She's raising three lovely children, managing a household, and watches other peoples' kids to boot. She sews prodigiously and makes chocolate zucchini waffles. Seriously, who does that? Stop making the rest of us look bad, Julie.
Although we have different parenting styles, I think she's a great mother. A few weeks ago Julie let slip that she has never spent more than eight consecutive hours away from her 2-year-old. That's the equivalent of one work day, or how long I can sit on the couch and binge-watch Arrested Development. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I should hand her a merit badge or book her a private padded room.
As I pack my bags for six blessed, glorious days without my little cherub, I realize that this is where I draw the line. I need time away.
Parenting a young child can be a lot like driving through the Washburn Tunnel, buried 85 feet under the muddy waters of the Houston Ship Channel. It's isolating, it's disorienting, it smells funny, and you have a vague fear that at any moment the tunnel could break open and you'll drown. You have to come up for air now and then -- preferably ocean air -- so you can rest and reassure yourself that you can do this.
Without a doubt, the hardest part of being a mother is simultaneously being an introvert. I need time away from people, especially my tiny drunken terrorist who is a bottomless pits of wants and needs, god love him. And I need time to work on my marriage, reconnect with my husband, remember why I started this family in the first place. To try to keep in touch with who I was before I became a mom. Because otherwise I start to drown, and I don't pay any attention to whom I take down with me.
Maybe Julie is normal and I'm the outlier. There are women -- apparently I know some -- who can do this stay-at-home-motherhood thing with grace and patience and aplomb. They can spend every waking hour, and sometimes sleeping hours too, with their children and feel their lives are richer for it. In fact, they might be so overcome with longing and misery that they wouldn't dream of taking off and leaving the kids at home. I am not one of these women. I never have been.
My son was all of 13 days old the first time I left him in the care of his grandparents. My husband was about to go back to work, so we stole a couple hours because I could no longer remember what his face looked like. We ate dinner together, at the same time, while the food was still hot. At the moment, it felt like we were dining at Jean Georges, even though it was only Cheesecake Factory. But still...CHEESECAKE. Then we stopped by Barnes & Noble so I could pick up a book on parenting because it had become abundantly clear I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone fared fine while we were gone; the baby slept while the grandparents gushed over him. This is probably the moment I thought, "Wait a second...you can leave them? With somebody else? COUNT ME IN." Eight months later, we left him again, for five days while we got some R&R in Florida. Now, in a few days we're heading for a desperately needed vacation in Jamaica, and leaving the toddler behind. I'm not saying it's because I need a break from my kid. It's because I need a break from my kid and the rest of life.
I realize we are indescribably lucky to have family nearby who are both willing and able to take our 2-year-old for a few days so the hubby and I can exit the tunnel and catch our collective breath. I hope you find yourself that lucky, too. Everybody deserves a vacation.
Although we have different parenting styles, I think she's a great mother. A few weeks ago Julie let slip that she has never spent more than eight consecutive hours away from her 2-year-old. That's the equivalent of one work day, or how long I can sit on the couch and binge-watch Arrested Development. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I should hand her a merit badge or book her a private padded room.
As I pack my bags for six blessed, glorious days without my little cherub, I realize that this is where I draw the line. I need time away.
Parenting a young child can be a lot like driving through the Washburn Tunnel, buried 85 feet under the muddy waters of the Houston Ship Channel. It's isolating, it's disorienting, it smells funny, and you have a vague fear that at any moment the tunnel could break open and you'll drown. You have to come up for air now and then -- preferably ocean air -- so you can rest and reassure yourself that you can do this.
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| Parenting. |
Without a doubt, the hardest part of being a mother is simultaneously being an introvert. I need time away from people, especially my tiny drunken terrorist who is a bottomless pits of wants and needs, god love him. And I need time to work on my marriage, reconnect with my husband, remember why I started this family in the first place. To try to keep in touch with who I was before I became a mom. Because otherwise I start to drown, and I don't pay any attention to whom I take down with me.
Maybe Julie is normal and I'm the outlier. There are women -- apparently I know some -- who can do this stay-at-home-motherhood thing with grace and patience and aplomb. They can spend every waking hour, and sometimes sleeping hours too, with their children and feel their lives are richer for it. In fact, they might be so overcome with longing and misery that they wouldn't dream of taking off and leaving the kids at home. I am not one of these women. I never have been.
My son was all of 13 days old the first time I left him in the care of his grandparents. My husband was about to go back to work, so we stole a couple hours because I could no longer remember what his face looked like. We ate dinner together, at the same time, while the food was still hot. At the moment, it felt like we were dining at Jean Georges, even though it was only Cheesecake Factory. But still...CHEESECAKE. Then we stopped by Barnes & Noble so I could pick up a book on parenting because it had become abundantly clear I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone fared fine while we were gone; the baby slept while the grandparents gushed over him. This is probably the moment I thought, "Wait a second...you can leave them? With somebody else? COUNT ME IN." Eight months later, we left him again, for five days while we got some R&R in Florida. Now, in a few days we're heading for a desperately needed vacation in Jamaica, and leaving the toddler behind. I'm not saying it's because I need a break from my kid. It's because I need a break from my kid and the rest of life.
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| Not a toddler in sight. |
I realize we are indescribably lucky to have family nearby who are both willing and able to take our 2-year-old for a few days so the hubby and I can exit the tunnel and catch our collective breath. I hope you find yourself that lucky, too. Everybody deserves a vacation.
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