The Celebration Season

It’s been a while since I posted – my first since leaving BlissTree. It’s been crazy around here. We launched the holiday season as we have for the past six years – with Truman’s birthday party (or birthday, whichever comes first). This celebration of sorts continues for a month … longer, really. Until New Year’s Day. And I am so eager at that point to tear down this messy garland and pick the ornaments off the floor. (I can thank my cats for that this year. Previous years it was partially Truman’s fault.) But we’re halfway through the celebration season and other than suffering a financial blow due to an unexpected four-figure car repair, I’m in great spirits.

I kicked off the celebration season by wallowing in a little pathetic self-pity. My Memphis family was enjoying Thanksgiving together, no doubt spending the evening eating a lavish meal, drinking bottomless glasses of wine, talking loudly about current events and how there is some hope for the miserable economy. Instead, I spent the holiday hosting my husband’s family. They are dear, refined people, and while I love them deeply, we’re just a small group and our midday meal isn’t littered with off-color jokes and talks about how the Republicans are ruining our great country.

And my mother is gone. Dead 10 years now, and I like to throw in some jabs to my already bruised ego by kicking around thoughts of what the holidays would be like if she were still around. I can’t call Anni, my father’s wife, a stepmother. She entered my life when I was too old to need a surrogate one. But she has been a lifesaver to my father, my family. And loves my son as if he were her own. That’s priceless.

So, it was Thanksgiving day and I was wallowing around in that self-pity crap and I had this epiphany. I realized one day Truman would be in college or beyond, and he will call (or text?) and say he will be spending the holidays with his girlfriend or whatever. I’m telling this to my mother-in-law as the turkey I undercooked was back in the oven. I said, “And you know what? It’ll be OK.” She said, “No, it won’t.” I said, “Yes, it will. Because, you know what Rick and I will do? We’ll go to New Orleans. We’ll spend the holiday there. And we’ll look back on days like this when Truman was a kid and we were all together and we’ll remember how special this time is.” And I meant it with such a fever that I swear I almost ran to Google “Thanksgiving in New Orleans” to find the best places to dine and stay. But that can wait. Thing is, I don’t want to spend my entire holidays wishing for what is gone and will no longer be. I want to appreciate the here and now.

And so, this Thanksgiving day the six of us – my family and my husband’s – lined up at the table, and I wasn’t sad for what I was missing out on up in Memphis. (OK, maybe a little jealous.) And I sent a little message to my Mom, sort of a “Thanks for teaching me to love the holidays,” because I must have gotten it from someone. And when everyone went to bed, I grabbed my laptop and Googled “New Orleans.”

tips for guilt-free childless vacations

My husband and I just returned from a night out of town away from the stresses of our jobs and the wails of our little boy. I’m pathetic when it comes to leaving my little boy, even for one night. Yet, the minute I pull out of the driveway with my packed bags in tow, I feel the weight of responsibility lift. It takes no time to fall into the pattern of sleeping late and find a little peace.

U2 from the nosebleed seats

It’s been years since my husband and I have vacationed, just the two of us. But we’ve been planning this trip for months – since my husband heard U2 would be performing in Atlanta. We purchased our nosebleed section tickets (that’s what we get for waiting two days to decide to go), booked a luxurious suite at an amazing B&B, and made reservations at perhaps the best restaurant in town, where, by the way, we dined with a celebrity. (OK, so he was at the table next to us, does that count?)

It seemed a little easier to leave this time. I’ll credit some tips I picked up these past few weeks:

Leave the guilt behind.
There are countless benefits to vacationing without kids. Relationship experts say that marriages get stronger when spouses slip away together. “You get to focus on each other without interruption,” Charlotte Shoup Olsen, Ph.D., an associate professor with the School of Family Studies and Human Services at Kansas State University, said in an interview with MomsToday. “To keep really connected to each other, couples need to know what is happening to the other person.”

Experts agree that getting away from the daily stresses, like laundry and lunch packing and dinner making and job deadlines, makes us adults more pleasant to be around when we do come back to town, which in turn benefits the children who have to deal with us. So, why carry around guilt for taking some much needed time off from the kids?

Disrupt your child’s life as little as possible.
When my son was 3, we left for a week to care for my dying grandfather. Leaving my son was torture. I worried that he couldn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy left, and communicating it to him seemed impossible. But we prepared the best we could, arranging for his grandparents (with the help of his sitter) to keep him on a schedule he was familiar with. That included regular naps and snack times as well as visits to his part-time preschool.

Now that he’s older – nearly 6 – he understands what we mean when we say we’ll be home Wednesday. We can talk to him on the phone and tell him how much we miss him. We also encouraged his grandparents to keep to his schedule, which included introducing the grandparents to that machine known as “carpool line” and transporting their grandson to his weekly soccer game.

Take Precautions.
Sure, you don’t want to think about you children getting sick or hurt while you’re gone. But just in case, it’s best to be prepared. Set out your children’s insurance cards, leave the number to their doctors offices, and leave contact information for relatives or friends who can step in the event of an emergency or if assistance is needed. You may also want to have an Emergency Medical Authorization Form prepared so as not to delay any necessary medical treatment and to help cut through any “red tape” at the hospital.

Chill out.
Sure, the grandparents may feed your child those vile chicken nuggets, forget to toss him in the shower, or send him to bed two hours late. But this is why your child loves to be with them! Think of it as a vacation for your child. Instead, focus on spoiling yourself by eating well, taking long baths, and sleeping in. Those grown-up vacation luxuries will be mere pleasant memories soon enough.

Photo, JWJourney

Tips for packing with kids in tow

Once upon a time it was easy to travel. My husband and I would wake up, shower, pack our bags and leave. I think we could pull the whole thing off in under an hour.

And then came Truman.

I can’t say we weren’t warned. Our friends with kids told that packing a baby justified buying enormous SUVs. You had to make room for the Pack’n’Play, bouncy seat, portable high chair, enough for three changes of clothes per day, loads of diapers, baby wipes, bottles, formula, dissolving-in-the-mouth baby snacks, blankets, toys he had little interest in, and so on. I am a list-maker so packing consisted mainly of checking off items. And that was Rick’s job. He does most of the heavy lifting.

In some ways, my job was more tiring. I handled the child. Depending on my son’s age and abilities, I was either changing diapers or feeding or chasing my son around the house or keeping him away fro Rick so Rick could do his packing chores. Since my son was born with energy, this was never an easy job. To complicate matters, once my darling son started talking, he never stopped.

He’s almost 6 now, and we decided to use the long weekend (afforded us by a school district-appointed parent-teacher conference day with no classes) to head to the beach before the winter months forced us indoors. You’d think packing for the trip would be easier. We’re taking far fewer things than we did when Truman was a baby. We did load up his bike, though, and a cooler full of juice pouches and wine. Truman, however, continues to challenge us in this endeavor.

Here’s our conversation this morning while Rick and I tried desperately to pack:
“Mommy.” Yes, love.
“Mommy, guess what, Mommy.” What?
“I’m making a candy corn man.” That’s great, honey.
“Look Mommy.” I see, love. That’s a great candy corn man.
“Mommy?” Yes.
“I need the tape.” OK
“Can you give me the tape, Mommy.” Can I what?
“I mean, please. Can you please give me the tape please?” In a minute, honey. I’m up to my elbows in clothes.
“But Mommy.” But what?
“Guess what Mommy?” What.
“Mommy, guess what? Guess what I did.” Oh….what?
“I got glitter glue on the table. Can you clean it up for me?”

Ok, so know you know why we pack the cooler with wine.

Planning on a trip with the kids soon? Here are some packing trips to help reduce your stress level. Feel free to add any of your own secrets. I could always use more!

• Make a list of every thing you need to bring. It’s easy to forget even the most obvious things when you pack under stress.
• Do as much in advance as possible, such as while the kids are asleep. No kidding.
• Tag team. I usually pack while Rick chases Truman around the house. I take over Truman duty while Rick loads the car. However, lately Truman wants to help Daddy put things in the car, which can be stressful for someone like Rick who has a car-packing plan he’s working.
• Give your child a small back or backpack to fill with his own things – toys, books, markers and paper, etc. This can occupy a curious kid for several minutes. But you’ll want to be sure he hasn’t left anything out, such as markers to go with the drawing pads or the coveted track for his Hotwheels.
• If traveling by car, have him arrange the area around him. Rick oversees this part, but he does give Truman some say. This way our son knows where to find what he needs when he needs it.
• When all else fails, turn to Spongebob. I’m not sure what it is about that show that mesmorizes my child so. But sometimes it’s just what the doctor ordered.

Photo, Flickr, melinal