I wrote this little run down of my recent day off from life, in hopes of inspiring fellow mamas to give themselves some deserved time off too, for no better reason than your own sanity. You don’t have to plan for much, in fact, the less you do the better.
Self imposed days off, are by far the best gift you can give yourself. And since you love YOU first, I’m guessing you know what a great present that actually is. Merry belated Christmas, girl.
So, first things first: you will need to GET EVERYONE OUT OF THE HOUSE.
However you can manage to work it out, make it happen. It’s important you don’t actually leave your own house, just everyone else has got to go.
For me, it worked out perfectly – my man was already away for business, and my parents were breaking my balls to see the kid anyways. Hmmmmm…. should I use this moment to my benefit and take him up for a sleepover?
YES YES YES.
Do this for yourself. No-one will do it for you.
So it begins:
Oscar and I have ourselves a lazy morning, and then begin to pack his weekend bag for an impromptu super-duper adventure at the grandparents’. When we get there, we have a nice lunch together and he quickly forgets all about being the stage-five mom-clinger he typically is.
I put him down for his afternoon nap and mosey on out (read: peel out of the driveway). Childish Gambino sets the tone in the car, and has me slow jamming on a slow moving DVP South without a care in the world.
When I get home, I take an extended hot shower, and finally emerge the steam room only to lay on the bed and scroll through Instagram.
I hit the vaporizer and edit photos from my winter trip to LA. Finally.
I eat a salad.
And read a few pages of the abandoned book by my bedside.
It’s not that I am SOOOO tired of taking care of a kid… It’s about giving myself the luxury of uninterrupted silence. Literally NO-ONE is asking you questions about anything. It’s just so beautiful.
*PS: Don’t fuck it up by having your phone ringer on. Your man might call with a minute detail.
So now it’s early evening and you’d think I’d have some kind of an itch to go out gallivanting. After all, I’m an ex party girl and a free woman!!!
But, nah man… I just have some friends over. We watch the game, drink a few bottles of wine, and tell a story or ten. I still want to be socially interactive, I just don’t actually want to DO anything.
I burn a dozen candles, without having to worry someones little fingers will make it in the hot wax, and know the best part of the night will be going to bed and waking up WHENEVER.
The greatest thing about this scenario is, YOU’RE ALREADY HOME. You do not need to wear real pants and Uber to and from anywhere. Plus you’ve got a stocked bar and an endless array of delivery options – what could actually beat that?
Quality chill hang is now in session.
* Highlights include walking up the Street to The Pumps for a pack of Belmont’s that everyone seems to suddenly need.
After the tribe leaves, and since I am just getting over a cold, I pop a NyQuil to give my body that extra love and secure a feel-better, much needed, night of rest.
SLEPT. LIKE. A. BEAR.
I wake up at 9am and the first thing I do (naturally) is calculate how many hours in fact I slept?!! Eight? Nine.
NOPE. Gonna super size that.
Fall back asleep and wake up at 10:30. That’sssss better.
I spend the morning listening to the songs I’ve been missing, while loosely checking some phone messages and picking aimlessly through a bowl of mixed nuts.
I wash a few dishes to feel productive, but I overlook the laundry hampers because: tomorrow.
I take another glorious shower (that’s two showers back to back to be clear) that is everything a good shower should be: hot, steamy, and unbelievably long. I unapologetically include a deep hair conditioning mask, and scrub my face with the micro-srub beads from my aesthetician. (PS if you need her info, message me because she’s incredible). Afterwards, I try the Khiel’s Body Cream samples they’re always giving me, and enjoy the shit out of it.
This is of course followed by a late wake n’ bake.
I do a lazy version of yoga (basic stretching) in high-rise jeans, because I’m already dressed and too slow to get into gear and lay out a mat. (S/O to Citizens for the softness).
I watch SNL from the night before.
I decide I should probably eat.
On the way to my all-time favorite diner, OK OK, I stop at Loblaw’s for Milk and Diapers, because: #momlife. The Byrds are on the radio when I park outside the diner, and I skip hop in to find a seat along the bar. I sit there with a blank mind, and start to rummage through a left over weekend paper.
The Greek owner asks me where my “possey’s” at…
“I got rid of them.”
I love this place.
I inspire the owner’s daughter behind the counter to do the same for herself. And she gets right to planning.
Après lunch, I head across the street to Bobbette and Belle to grab my boy some freshly made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, ’cause I’m nice like that. (And they’re heavenly).
On the way back over to my parents, Fleetwood Mac’s Hypnotized is on, and slowly gears me down to reality from what’s been a hypnotizing 26 hours.
My son is beyond excited to see me, and immediately starts to tell me about all his incredible adventures with Babcia and Dziadek (gramma and grampa). “And then, I made crepes… and we cleaned the garage… and then, we kick the two balls, Mama let me show you!!” He doesn’t stop.
See, the best part of all, the gold lining in all of this, is that your kid just had the sweetest vacation too. He got spoiled rotten, he got to try new things, play in new corners of the house and get a break from you too. YES. Even from you.
Your time is equally as important. And if you’re a lady who finds it hard to trust anyone with the task of caring for her child because it won’t be perfectly to your standards… get over it. Your kid will eat, shit, sleep and survive.
So get on it. Book a vacay for one (and invite me over for the opening ceremony).
* * *
*****SHOP THE REBEL MAMA*****