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Why I Travel Without My Kid (and Why You Should, Too)
Click for THE FULL STORY.
THE FULL STORY
Writer Rosemary Counter reflects on the freedom, guilt and unexpected joy of travelling without her family—and why time away can make some parents feel more like themselves again.
Remember The Hours? The movie that won Nicole Kidman—as Virginia Woolf, with a very intense prosthetic nose—her triumphant post-divorce Oscar? Neither do I, really, except for one particular image of Julianne Moore as a depressed housewife sitting on the edge of a bed staring blankly into the middle distance in a hotel room she rented just to be alone.
I don’t know why this scene of all the others earned rent-free space in my head. At the time, it struck me as unfathomably strange female behaviour—but I was still a clueless, kidless, responsibility-less teenager. Hotel rooms were for forbidden sleepovers with boyfriends or road trips with your girlfriends, or maybe March break bashes with Breakaway Tours. Which begs the obvious question…
Who’s Travelling Alone and Loving It?
Well, me, for one. I’ve since grown up, gotten married and had a kid, and I’ve learned that being alone and away is a gift and a luxury worth paying for. Once or twice a year, for as little as one and as many as four (!!!) glorious nights away, I’ve been known to leave my husband and daughter to fend for themselves while I shamelessly check into the King Eddy in downtown Toronto, or the Sheridan in London, Ont., or even the Don Valley Hotel ten minutes from my house.
There are no stats or studies as to how many people do what I do, nor any hard-and-fast rules about when it’s “okay” to leave your baby home and go away on vacation. But every few months, a judgy tabloid will report on a mom (always, always a mom) who left her children to go off somewhere and be selfish and awful. You can probably imagine how the comments tend to unfold.
But I suspect the lucky few parents with the financial and familial support to facilitate a kid-free vacation do so more than they’ll ever admit or post on Facebook. I’m just willing to say it aloud because I just don’t have the feeling I’m “supposed” to have: Guilt.
How I Cured My Mom Guilt
Let me tell you how I did it: Eight years ago, when my daughter was eleven months old, I lucked out with an opportunity to go on a writer’s retreat with Margaret freakin’ Atwood. It’d be a whole week away, a far trek with a long ferry ride, and since my boobs were coming with me, it’d probably double as forced weaning time too.
Never in my life have I wavered back and forth like I did about this getaway: Should I stay or should I go? Never mind what I thought, as the whole world (mainly other women, actually) had big, unsolicited opinions in either direction. Most moms assumed of course I wasn’t going and reassured me other opportunities would someday come around. Non-moms couldn’t believe I was even considering staying home to feed a baby like I already had for eleven long months. (My wise husband, meanwhile, supported whatever I chose to do.)
I ultimately landed on Team Atwood and let me tell you why: I imagined my daughter as a teenager and how she might view a checked-out mother off somewhere in a hotel room in a movie. Sad and depressed and strange? Or independent and interesting and multifaceted? Plus I didn’t want to have to tell her that I almost went to write with Margaret Atwood but didn’t. That hypothetical guilt outweighed my real, current guilt, so I packed my bags.
Three Reasons Why You Should Do What I Did
Though I missed my daughter the whole time, I still had the trip of a lifetime—with some of my time indeed spent looking at photos of her alone in my room. Modern technology makes remembering really easy and convenient, and I relished quick FaceTime calls home to see her properly. Our childhood a mere generation ago didn’t allow this, so we should use and enjoy a rare tech-perk.
Dad on full-time-parent duty had a great week too. Even better, I returned to a tired husband with a new appreciation for my round-the-clock mom efforts. I also appreciated him accommodating my retreat, and felt like my (professional) work mattered too—a really good mat-leave feeling and reminder that I was more than these boobs.
When I finally got home, it was way past bedtime but I was psyched to surprise my daughter in the morning. I burst into her room to say, “Mom’s home!” and received a hilariously nonchalant non-response. Babies have memories like goldfish, it turns out, and as soon as I was back, she forgot I’d left at all. And if she can’t be bothered to even remember, I’m definitely not going to feel guilty about it. Mom guilt gone!
Why You Should Take Yourself on an Adventure
Besides taking a break and getting away, both completely valid reasons all on their own, the bigger truth is if I want my daughter to grow up to be interesting and independent, I have to show her how to be interesting and independent. I have to walk the walk, even if she can’t yet come with me.
Last year, she stayed with her grandparents while the grown-ups went to Iceland. This spring, we’re all squeezing into 200-square-feet on an Alaskan cruise. In the fall, they’ll both stay home while I’m off to see the pyramids in Egypt. I’ll miss them while I’m away, but I know I’ll come back a better, nicer, funner, wiser and more interesting person and parent than when I left.
Travel’s a soul-feeder for me, but maybe yours is arts and crafts or hitting the spa or scratching Bingo lottery tickets in the bath (my second-favourite mini-getaway). Whatever it is, take the time for yourself and enjoy every minute away—for you, of course, but also for your kids. They need to see their parents off and away sometimes—not staring into space sadly contemplating what never was, but living and loving her own cool life.
A note from ParentsCanada: We loved Rosemary’s take on this subject, but it does seem to be a bit of a polarizing topic. So now we’re curious…
Have you travelled solo since you've had kids? |