The Childfree Staycation

By The Dowager Tartess
Posted on Tuesday, July 26th, 2016

This week, my husband and I pretend we’re childfree, at least during daytime hours. This summer we’ve taken two weeks off together, and we’re now in the second week.

The first week? Well, that was spent in full family mode, with a road trip to our shared hometown, overnight visits with the in-laws, lots of driving, swimming, getting our 3-year-old son to sleep in new locations, and numerous frustrating amounts of correcting said 3-year-old’s antagonizing behaviour as he ran us ragged, overstimulated and testing every boundary again and again and again.

I hear it’s unfashionable presently to give time outs, but fuck off with that, I use the time outs-- drag them from my cold dead hands. It was either that or shake him while I hollered “Why won’t you listen?!” So he got the time outs at three separate locations while we tried to instil in him the importance of still needing to act right in exotic locations like Grandpa’s house.

And despite my griping, it was a good trip. Our son had fun, we visited family he rarely sees, introduced him to swimming in a lake, and made memories. And even though it’s hard on us travelling out of town for a week, we still look forward to the time together as a family. We do it every year. 

But the week after, this week, this belongs to us, just husband and wife. And it’s sorely needed to recover from the intensive family time.

This week, we have been sending our son to daycare, lying through our teeth that we have to “go to the office.” Then we spend our day doing whatever we want.

My husband has been taking long walks after dropping our son off, playing Pokemon Go and taking pictures. I’ve been sleeping in. Then we go out for brunch, playing Pokemon along the way (Yes, Pokemon has been featuring heavily in this week off and it’s been awesome).

We’ve gone shopping and walking, we’ve talked and we’ve been quiet together. We saw Ghostbusters and we’re going to see Star Trek on Friday. We so rarely ever get out to the movies. Babysitters are expensive. We’re probably blowing a little more money than we ought to on eating out this week, but that’s also something else we rarely do. Oh, we take our son out to eat, but those outings are not fully relaxing, as we have to keep his behaviour in line and sometimes remove him from the restaurant if he misbehaves.

Around 3:00, time almost seems to speed up and I have to consider where we are and what we’re doing, because we pick him up at 5:15, like we do when we’re working, and I don’t want to be late because I was too caught up enjoying myself. 

And when I pick up my son, he runs into my arms and gives me the highlighted news of the day, “No accidents!” being the best sort of news because it means potty training is on track, and his eyes are glowing and proud of himself. Sometimes he adds, “I’m happy!” or even cuter, “You’re happy!” And I am happy. 

And we walk home together, and we’ve been stopping into the corner store to buy a popsicle to share because it’s so damn hot and I want to give us a little treat and make him happy, because it’s been a nice day. 

I think he’s onto us, though. We probably haven’t been at all as careful as we needed to be in discussing this week off. He tells us, “I want to stay home tomorrow.” He never asks us that. We tell him no, because we won’t be here. Which is true; we haven’t been staying home. He accepts this, although he doesn’t seem entirely convinced. 

But I am convinced, that this week has been exactly what my husband and I needed, to remind us that we aren’t just parents, that we’re a couple and that we really enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes I forget he’s my best friend because we’re squabbling over household nonsense or we’re tired from work.

Today, while I was lingering over potato waffles with sour cream, bacon and chives, I was trying to be in the moment. This delicious brunch was going to end, the day was going to come to a close and the week would be over before I knew it. But along with my waffles, I was tasting my pre-motherhood life and I was loving it. I was feeling free and unencumbered. 

I suppose I should have felt guilty. I know I’m supposed to. Bloggers make sure to mention mom guilt all the time. And I should write something about missing my child.

But I didn’t feel guilty and I didn’t miss him. I just spent a week giving him a quality childhood summer experience, and even with all the madness it was a great time together. It’s the sort of family tradition you look back on fondly once you’ve recovered from it all. But my husband and I also deserve a week for ourselves, and memories that only include us. I don’t question this.

Two more days left at the time of writing. Two more days of luxuriating in each other’s company and throwing responsibilities to the wind. And then we have two birthday parties to take our son to on the weekend, and then work. And life will resume as normal. 

About the Author:
Canadian underachiever, mom of one, writer, occasional artist, and a silly goose.