Why We Should Stop Telling Parents to "Enjoy Every Second"

Words I would use to describe myself would be sentimental, gushy and emotionally invested in everyone and everything. My facial expressions do little to hide my feelings, whether they are cheerful or dismal. These aspects of my personality switch between a gift and a curse. A gift for those who reap the benefits of my care and kindness.  A curse for myself, for I experience some moments when I wish I could simply hit a switch. Turn off the tears. Turn a blind eye to the deep connection to every living and breathing human being who crosses my path.


You would probably envision that a person who so easily empathizes, appreciates and harmonizes with the world around her would have been one of those "I have enjoyed every single minute of motherhood, and so should you" type of moms. I probably spent hours longingly gazing into each one of my new baby's eyes: rocking, singing and caressing those chubby and silky soft cheeks.


You would guess that as a new mother, I remembered to cherish our interactions, no matter how tiny. I paid extra attention, because it was going to be over before I could blink. I realized they would be heading off to school soon, then morphing into mouthy teenagers refusing to follow curfew. I was constantly aware that eventually, my teensy newborns would be fully functioning adults with careers and families. They would move too far away to worry about their old mom, who once nursed and rocked and cherished them.


You would figure that I proudly captured every memory. I ignored the telltale exhaustion which new parents experience. I gleefully piled on more pregnancies...more screaming babies...more dirty diapers...more tantrum throwers...more laundry...more sippy cups...more demands on my body...more thoughts about "is this normal?"...more moves as a trailing spouse...more years since my own career...more...more...MORE!


Of course, I didn't do anything of the sort.


Here's the problem. No new mother (or father) can even attempt to notice it all, let alone embrace and enjoy it while it is happening. It is not possible or realistic, because we are beaten so down by it to see any of it. Every single cell in our bodies and our brains: Sapped. Dried up. Depleted. Deleted.


We are outnumbered, outwitted and outdone by the end of each day. We negotiate with toddlers to no avail. We wash bodily fluids out of places we would like to pretend we haven't seen. We wonder why babies have acne and cradle cap and acid reflux, and we want to fix everything. We cannot remember the last time we had a shower, a hot meal or a talk with a friend which wasn't interrupted by "No!! Don't! Sorry...I gotta go!"


Those of us whose children have graduated from the baby stage fondly look back with nostalgia. We do feel grateful to no longer need diaper bags or strollers for a quick trip to the zoo. We are ecstatic when our children are finished with our personal milk jugs and eventually learn to pour their own cereal. We are relieved.


It isn't until we pass a stage in parenting when we can actually see what we previously endured. Do I wish that my super emotive brain had been better equipped to mentally record all of the beautiful moments of my early years of motherhood?


Absolutely.


Will I pretend that I was doing it all along?


Absolutely not, because it would be a disservice to new mothers everywhere.


Facebook and blogs and well-meaning women in the grocery store who continue to insist that moms with new babies should be "enjoying every second" already have clawed their way out of the trenches and magically erased the battle scars they endured along the way. Their children know how to complete basic tasks such as use the toilet, take a shower, make toaster waffles for all the siblings and read! Life changes when children gain independence.


If you're a new mama with little ones at home, please feel free to ignore what you've heard about enjoying every second. If I've said it before, I take it back. (Sometimes, we slip up and exhibit inappropriate sadness about our kids growing older). It is true, they do eventually head off to school and become teenagers, and all of the baby years will be behind you.


Suddenly, a marvelous day will come when you will be able to breathe for a bit. You'll be sitting on the beach with another seasoned mom, laughing about how you cannot believe everything you CONQUERED in those early years. You will pat each other on the back, because you were rock stars-even on your most unglamorous days covered in dried up milk and baby puke.

You are rocking it, Mama!

Just check out my last kid carrying his own sand toys down to the water. Independence. A true sign of a mom who is doing her job. You will be there, too!

 

 

 

Tell us about your most unglamorous moments. You'd be surprised to know you are not alone.

 

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7 Stages of a Kid-Free Vacation

As Mark and I approach fifteen years of marriage, we often forget what our life entailed before we transitioned from two college students aching to spend every day together to two groggy parents who rarely find two consecutive nights uninterrupted by the hum-drum details of managing a family of six. Living this life, working through the highs and lows of parenting, tends to take a toll on the people who created it. Like everyone else experiencing this stage, our previous life is a distant blur.


So goes the life of a married couple with kids. We love them; we love each other. We crave family time; we crave couple time. Our emotions oscillate as we walk this delicate balance of seeking enough minutes in the day for everyone. Most days, it's a struggle. Most days, we long for more. Some months, we may only squeeze in a couple of short hours out of the house together. Otherwise, we settle for coffee and squirrel-gazing on the deck while the kids play Minecraft inside, or wine and Netflix on the couch when they're finally asleep. We manage, because it's all we can do at this point in time. It's being a parent. We want it. We love it, even though it's difficult. We know it will not be like this forever.


However...


You can imagine that when an opportunity came up for us to spend a week focusing only on ourselves, we pounced on it before the grandparents had a second to change their minds.


They offered at least five, maybe seven days for us to be...alone. Alone, alone.

Because the decision was pretty last minute, and we already had commitments for a couple of the days, we weren't able to sneak off for a Caribbean vacay (my first choice). Instead, we enjoyed three staycation nights and two nights in a cabin on a lake a few hours from home. Mark worked some, and I fulfilled my obligations that had been set a month ago. As we navigated this new territory of kid-free vacation time, I realized that we did not experience an easy shift from parents to a couple on a romantic getaway. Our vacation moved through stages.


Seven stages to be exact.


Seven stages I did not expect to encounter during our eagerly anticipated break from parenthood. If you are ever going to enjoy some time away from your children, you may want to be prepared for this range of emotions that may show up out of nowhere. They came as a shocker for me, for sure.


Stage 1-Elation


We left the four children in our hometown (with both sets of grandparents) after spending the July 4th holiday weekend with everyone. Prepping for their weeklong stay was a lot of work for me, and while I knew I would miss them, I also knew that they were going to have cool adventures. So much excitement and anticipation had been building, so when it officially happened, all we could do was be giddy. I actually clapped and shrieked a little.


Stage 2-Relaxation


Our drive home without them was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that we were able to discuss ourselves. We talked about current events, work, our upcoming plans, whatever we wanted. Free from typical refereeing which usually happens during our family trips, we didn't utter any of these sentences:


Would you please chew with your mouth closed?


Stop poking your sister in the neck.


We'll be home in an hour.


Leave his pillow alone.


Quit kicking my seat.


Who has to go to the bathroom?


No, you cannot have any more snacks.


Yes, we're almost there.


How would you like it if someone poked you in the neck?


You know what I mean. Without anyone behind us, we were so relaxed. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all as we soaked up the lack of sound. Coming home to an empty house meant more quiet, more peace, more freedom to choose our own paths. We controlled the TV, the iPad, the meals, everything! It was surreal. We even walked to a local restaurant for dinner on Monday evening. The only people who walk to that hip spot are the young couples who haven't had any children yet and the empty nesters in our neighborhood. This time, we were one of them. No kid menus for this couple. No whiners about tired feet. Just us. Just awesome.


Stage 3-Regret


Tuesday morning dawned, and after Mark left the house for work, I began to wonder if we had made a mistake.


Did we really need all that time to ourselves? Should I really be sitting in such an empty house, sipping piping hot coffee and checking Facebook, uninterrupted?


I was missing my daily squeezes. Missing the sounds of my family. Missing the rooms filled with bodies, no matter how sassy or stinky or silly they are. I cleaned. I cooked. I laundered. I completed all of my motherly duties, all without a child underfoot. It felt strangely wrong, and I told Mark that I was worried about how slowly the day passed by without anybody home with me. Is this what life will be like when they all go to school next year?


Stage 4-Worry


Wednesday morning was our planned departure date for our mini-vacation. After we talked with each child and tied up loose ends around the house, I averted my future identity crisis. We hit the road, which meant more time in the car together, in the cabin, in restaurants. We turned into a married couple with no kids in sight.


We've been alone for four days now. What if we run out of conversation topics? Is this what it's going to be like when the kids are all grown, and we're alone together every day? Can we handle it?


Stage 5-Guilt


Yes! Handling it well, Mark and I felt young again. We dozed past 9 a.m., kayaked across a serenely tranquil lake, devoured double scoop waffle cones and cracked up at Tommy Boy. Throughout the hours, our children came up in conversation, always in the back of our minds.


Suddenly, by Thursday, the entire night slipped by without us calling to check on them, and I felt like the most rotten mother in the world.


How could I have gone to sleep without hearing from my babies?


I'm not 19 anymore, what was I thinking?


I'm a mom with countless responsibilities, and being an ultra-competitive diva playing Scattergories at a cabin in the boonies isn't one of them.


Or is it?


Stage 6-Reconnection


I drove to see the kids on a Saturday, exactly six days from saying good-bye to them. They seemed older and appeared different. We hugged, and I prodded them for info about their week. Instead of lengthy, juicy play-by-plays, they only provided me with short answers.


"Good. Yeah. I don't know."


The five of us returned all the way home on Sunday, driving with no DVD player and in tight enough quarters that their legs and shoulders actually touched one another. Taking Mark's sporty car so I could drive with an open sun-roof and loud radio on the way there didn't exactly work out so well for the return trip.


I began wondering if separating the family for almost a week made me less tolerable to their usual behaviors or if the kids were angry with each other and me for leaving them for a week. What had I done?


Stage 7-Anticipation


When Monday afternoon rolled around, I felt myself missing Mark like I hadn't missed him in years, even though he was only ten miles away at work. I had grown accustomed to being near him, to our bodies and minds being present with one another all the time. I found myself daydreaming about our future. I began to imagine not only our next date night, but also our next kid-free vacation and even our retirement. I remembered why we fell in love half of my lifetime ago, and I focused on how blessed I was that we have an entire life ahead of us.


Next, I chose to turn an even stronger focus to the kids. Focus on their humor, their needs and their purpose in our home. Being without them for a week did create a longing for more family time. More time connecting with each one. More listening. More summer relaxing. Just more.


Parents have so many responsibilities, and one of them is that we do what we can to recharge and renew ourselves. A kid-free vacation may not be in the cards for everyone, but any amount of time you can devote to yourself as an adult first can only help.


You may be surprised at how much closer it will bring the entire family. Even if there's not time this year, think about it for another time. Kids benefit from happy parents. I hope you will benefit from my experience in knowing it may not be easy, but it will definitely be worth it.


What have you done to renew yourself as a parent? Do you have any advice to share?

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