THERE’S A SLEEPOVER FOR THAT

I wrote this little run down of my recent day off from life in hopes of inspiring fellow mamas to give themselves some well deserved time off too, for no other reason than personal sanity maintenance. You don’t have to plan for much; in fact, the less you do the better.

First thing’s first: You will need to GET EVERYONE OUT OF THE HOUSE.

How you juggle the logistics doesn’t matter (tips on that can be found in our guide to temporary child abandonment); just make it happen.  Once again, it is of utmost importance that YOU don’t actually leave your house – it’s EVERYONE ELSE who 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 anyway. Hmm…. should I use this moment to my benefit and bring him to the Grands for a sleepover? 

YES YES YES.

And I encourage you too to embrace these opportunities if / when they arise.

Do this for yourself. No one will do it for you.

***

Day One:

Baby boy 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 a very 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.

This is about giving  yourself the well-deserved luxury of uninterrupted time and silence. Literally no-one is asking questions about anything, and it’s just so beautiful.

*PS: Don’t fuck it up by having your phone ringer on. Your man might call with an inquiry about an insignificant detail.

So now it’s early evening and you’d think I’d have some kind of an itch to go gallivanting. After all, I’ll always be a party girl.

I opt to just have some friends over instead. We talk over the Raps game, drink a few bottles of red wine, and unleash that that good good female energy. 

I burn a dozen candles without having to worry about someone’s little fingers making it in the hot wax, and know the best part of the night will be going to bed and waking up whenever I please.

The absolute greatest thing about this scenario is, YOU’RE ALREADY HOME. You do not need to wear real pants or Uber to and from some trendy restaurant.

Chill hang is now in session.

After the tribe leaves, I cleanse and exfoliate my face before bed (because time) and climb into a perfectly made bed.

—-

Day Two:

I wake up at 9 a.m. and the first thing I do (naturally) is calculate how many hours I actually slept… Seven? Eight?? Nine and a half.

Fall back asleep for an hour longer. Thaaaaat’s 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, 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 include a deep hair conditioning mask, and cleanse my face slowly.  Afterwards, I try all the Khiel’s  cream samples they’re always giving me. 

This is (of course) followed by a late wake n’ bake.

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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, I stop at the pharmacy 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 adorable Greek owner asks me where my “posse’s” at…

“I got rid of them.”

“Double homicide?”

I love this place.

I inspire the owner’s daughter behind the counter to follow suit and treat herself to a 24 hour escape. She gets right into planning.

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Après lunch, I head across the street to Bobbette and Belle to grab my boy some freshly made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies when I pick him up in a few hours. Get one for myself too. 

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 (but who’s counting?).

My son is beyond excited to see me, and immediately starts to tell me about all his incredible adventures with Babcia and Dziadek (grandma and grandpa).

“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 golden lining, if you will – is that your kid just gets a sweet vacation out of it too.  They will get spoiled rotten, try new things, spend time with loved ones, and get a break from you. Yes. They need one too.

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 align perfectly with your standards… get over it. Your kid will eat, shit, sleep and survive. 

So get on it girl. Book a vacay for one (and invite me over for the opening ceremony).

x A

* * *

Originally published February, 2017

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