Warm rays of sunshine, soft sand beneath my toes, a tropical drink in hand… and wait a minute, why are there tears streaming down my face? I had been counting down to this getaway for what felt like forever, but as I embarked on my first solo vacation in 15 years (yes, you read that right), I found myself quietly sobbing behind my sunglasses.
Exhaustion had hit me hard after two flights and a long layover to reach my paradise in Costa Rica. I was running on 24+ hours without sleep, and let’s be honest, those kale chips and gluten-free blueberry bars weren’t cutting it. To top it off, I was seated next to an overly affectionate Swiss couple who seemed to have skipped hygiene for a few days.
But maybe these tears were ones of joy. After all, I was finally checking off a major bucket list item—learning to surf—and the excitement was overwhelming. Yes, exhaustion, hunger, and happiness were definitely in the mix, but nothing could explain the emotional outpouring that hit me like a freight train when I finally made it to my room. I collapsed onto the pristine white sheets of my king-sized bed, ready to embrace one week of solitude—yet I felt profoundly lonely.
After years of nurturing and guiding my three girls through their ups and downs, dealing with Legos and My Little Ponies, the constant noise of their laughter and squabbles was replaced with silence. I had longed for a break, a chance to recharge my batteries, and now that I had it, I felt lost.
I usually snatch snippets of “me time” here and there—20 minutes of organizing, a quick workout, maybe some list-making—little sanity savers to help me through the chaos of motherhood. Those short escapes, including the occasional girls’ weekend, never quite allowed me to fully step out of the mom role. But now, with a whole week to myself, I was surprisingly anxious.
My husband is fully capable of handling the kids, and the older ones are pretty self-sufficient. My youngest, though demanding, can get her own snacks and, yes, even handle bathroom business on her own! So why was I struggling to let go?
Back when my older girls were toddlers, I craved breaks like they were golden tickets. A solo tropical vacation where I could sleep in, read uninterrupted, and not have a tiny human attached to me felt like a distant fantasy. Fast forward to today, and here I was, thousands of miles away from home, realizing I didn’t actually need a break from my life anymore.
What I truly missed weren’t the responsibilities of parenting; it was my kids—their laughter, their quirks, their unique ways of navigating life. Yes, family life is hectic and requires constant effort, but I’ve come to embrace it. I no longer need to escape; the chaos, love, and even the mundane routines fill my heart with joy.
That night, I drifted off to sleep with tears still in my eyes, listening to the lullabies my little one loves. I woke up puffy-eyed but ready to discover who I am beyond the title of “Mom.” And you know what? Turns out, I’m a pretty awesome surfer after all.
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Summary
A mother reflects on her first solo vacation in 15 years, realizing that while she thought she needed a break from her kids, she actually missed them deeply. The experience highlights the emotional complexities of motherhood, the joys of family life, and the unexpected loneliness that can accompany time away.