A couple of years back—though it feels like a lifetime when you’re a parent—my partner Alex and I had a delightful weekend tradition. Every Sunday, we would splurge on a babysitter to watch our then three-year-old, Lily, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. This time was our opportunity to enjoy brunch, wander through our Brooklyn neighborhood, and take our dog to chase a Frisbee. Most importantly, it was a chance for us to reconnect after a busy week of juggling work and family responsibilities.
Those three hours felt like a romantic prelude, leading us to our bedroom for some much-needed intimacy once we settled Lily down for her afternoon nap. Those were truly special times—until the day inevitably came when Lily decided she was done napping. And just like that, our routine crumbled.
Fast forward a few years: Lily is now five and in kindergarten. Alex and I have transitioned to freelance work, trying to maximize our productivity before her 2:45 p.m. school dismissal, when one of us takes over parenting duties. Money is tight, but we cherish the time spent with Lily—at least when school is in session. When there’s a break, however, we face a different reality.
As April approached and Lily’s spring break loomed, we were filled with anxiety common to working parents who can’t afford vacations or daytime care (our usual evening sitters were busy with their own day jobs). The thought of an entire week with Lily at home was daunting!
Amidst our frantic attempts to arrange playdates and find new movies for her to watch on Netflix, we received an email from her school announcing a spring break camp. A lively thread of messages erupted among the other parents discussing their plans. “Ella’s signed up for Art & Crafts Wednesday and Bowling Thursday!” one mom shared. “Yes, Jack’s in for those too!” chimed in another. I figured we could swing two days for Lily.
Lily chose Art & Crafts on Wednesday—a day filled with creative activities, a trip to the playground, and a chance to plant in the school garden. But by the time I registered, bowling was fully booked. Still, I happily paid $90 for Wednesday, thinking it was worth it for her to have some fun.
Then it hit me—Alex and I deserved a day of fun too. Spring break was our cue! I instructed him to clear his schedule for our very own “Foreplay Date and Sex Wednesday.”
When spring break finally arrived, after two days of managing Lily at home, we were ready for camp. But as we entered the school, something felt off. The main entrance was open, yet there were no signs directing us to the camp or indicating it was happening.
“Do you think camp is in a different location?” Alex chuckled.
“It can’t be,” I replied, spotting another dad who looked just as confused.
We followed the sounds of children to the cafeteria, where an unenthusiastic woman handed us a clipboard to sign Lily in before disappearing into the background.
“Shouldn’t there be a camp counselor?” Alex whispered.
“Maybe one of those adults in the back?” I suggested, eyeing the sparse adults who didn’t seem engaged with the few kids already there.
In front of us were four stations of self-directed activities: crayons, sticks, marshmallows, Legos, and dolls. I silently prayed to my non-religious deity: Please, let this be some temporary setup until the real activities begin.
We mustered cheerful smiles. “Lily! Look at the crayons! How about a little drawing?” She sat down, unimpressed. We hugged her goodbye, and not a single adult noticed our departure.
Once outside, I turned to Alex. “Well, that was a bit disheartening.”
He squeezed my hand. “Lily will be just fine.”
“Anyone could walk in there and take a kid without anyone noticing,” I worried.
“After all the sacrifices we’ve made for her, she can take one for the team. Trust me,” he replied, and with that, we set aside our guilt and began our day date. We strolled, had breakfast, and returned home to pop open some prosecco we had bought just for this occasion.
As often happens with time away from the kids, our afternoon flew by, and soon it was time to pick up Lily. At least we now knew where to go.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Lily squealed, running into our arms. We embraced her tightly, and she waved goodbye to her new friend, Mia, from the doll station.
“So, how was it?” I asked, eager for her review.
With a dramatic sigh, she replied, “It wasn’t that great.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling deflated. “Why not?”
“Yeah,” Alex added, “you made a new friend.”
“Well, we didn’t plant anything, and there were no arts and crafts,” she explained.
“Did you at least go to the playground?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “But it felt like a really long day.”
I felt a twinge of guilt wash over me as I mentally drafted a complaint email for a refund. But by dinner, Lily was back to her cheerful self, and I figured the school deserved the money anyway, this experience notwithstanding.
Today marks the first day of Lily’s summer break, which is equivalent to eight spring breaks! This year, she’ll attend camp for the month of July, and I’m confident she’ll love it—not just because it’s not in the school cafeteria, but also because we visited their open house and it was impressive.
Next April, when spring break rolls around again, I’ll be ready with three key changes:
- I’ll sign her up faster than a hot knife through butter.
- I’ll ensure she’s only signed up for field trip days.
- I’ll buy two bottles of prosecco instead of one.
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In summary, while the transition from parenthood to couplehood can be challenging, it’s essential to carve out time for each other. With some planning and a bit of luck, we can create memorable experiences for both our children and ourselves.