During my girls' weekend away, a friend and I were strolling along a boardwalk that connected the Gulf of Mexico to our hotel. Strong afternoon sun, paired with even stronger afternoon cocktails, left us both more-than-slightly tipsy as we chatted along the path back to the hotel pool.
It was a rather hot day, and once we climbed the stairs that raised the boardwalk over the beach and into the lush foliage that lined the boardwalk, we were offered a pleasant reprieve from the sun. As soon as we hit the shady portion, our typically incessant banter slowed and for a few minutes we walked in silence. (Perhaps it was the delightful shade that got us to shut our yaps, or maybe it was the wooziness that accompanied the drinks mixed with the 90 degree temperature--I'm not sure.)
We continued to walk down the path completely alone, lost in our own private thoughts, until a family came upon us from the opposite direction. A young mother was leading her brood towards the beach. She was laden with floating devices and beach toys and other necessities to occupy her small children that were in tow. The older child, perhaps 6 or 7, followed behind her, then the husband (not surprisingly, his hands were empty) and finally bringing up the rear was a barefoot toddler crying.
My friend and I turned to watch as the family passed us by, and the mother called to her husband that the boardwalk was probably too hot to walk upon barefoot. (Ugh, ya think? I commented to my friend, as I stopped at that moment to put on my shoes....a dark wooden, splintery boardwalk that has a sign at the entrance that clearly states: Shoes are Recommended" must have been overlooked by the hapless mother...but I digress and that's not the point of my story....)
At the point at which the family with the shoeless child passed, two conversations were had between my friend and I. You know, it was one of those "Jinx, buy me a Coke" moments when we both turned to each other at the exact, same time to comment on what just happened. Except you usually only buy your friend a Coke when the same thought comes out of each others' mouths. In this case, it was not the same but still of interest to me...follow along.
So my friend's reaction to the family was to wonder what was happening at that very same time with her husband and kids at her home. She started to question if one kid would have a sunburn and if her other kid would be wearing any sunscreen at all. She wondered aloud if her husband would be smart enough to remember to apply a second application of sunscreen after the kids got out of the pool. Blah blah blah.
She essentially STOPPED being on a vacation and allowed herself to slip back into her role she played at home....the leading lady part of "Mother." I betcha if she had her cell phone handy, she would have made a call there and then to ensure the worrisome sunscreen was reapplied.
I, on the other hand, had this immediate and gratifying thought at the very same second within our "jinx, buy me a coke" moment. Here's what crossed my mind with glee: Thank god for girls' trips so I don't have to THINK about that for the next 72 hours!
I laugh at my friend. Why do you think about that now?, I rib her. This is your time, I remind. Truthfully, she's not very good at forgetting, even for a while, and truthfully, I can be very good at forgetting.
Once a year, I go away with my girlfriends and leave the worry, cleaning, shopping, cooking, preparing, planning, chicken nuggets, bathing, laundry, work, husband, stress, responsibilities, appointments, organizing, compromising, kids, and check-lists all home and take off for three days of me.
It's all about me... and sun, and me and drinks, and me and exercising (or not), and me and my friends. It's me, me, me. I smiled as I had that thought of carelessness regarding sunscreen on my kids. I know my husband will take care of it. The kids will be perfectly fine without me for three measly days. So, of course, I torment my poor friend and poke fun at her for not playing along as well as I.
But truthfully, later, soberly, I have to question if it IS okay to turn off my brain for a while. Am I being selfish? Should I call home more often than my once-daily check-in? Am I being a bad mother or wife? Maybe I should have a little guilt. I mean what would all this pleasure be for if not somehow counterbalanced with a little Jewish guilt, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. But not today for me.
It was a rather hot day, and once we climbed the stairs that raised the boardwalk over the beach and into the lush foliage that lined the boardwalk, we were offered a pleasant reprieve from the sun. As soon as we hit the shady portion, our typically incessant banter slowed and for a few minutes we walked in silence. (Perhaps it was the delightful shade that got us to shut our yaps, or maybe it was the wooziness that accompanied the drinks mixed with the 90 degree temperature--I'm not sure.)
We continued to walk down the path completely alone, lost in our own private thoughts, until a family came upon us from the opposite direction. A young mother was leading her brood towards the beach. She was laden with floating devices and beach toys and other necessities to occupy her small children that were in tow. The older child, perhaps 6 or 7, followed behind her, then the husband (not surprisingly, his hands were empty) and finally bringing up the rear was a barefoot toddler crying.
My friend and I turned to watch as the family passed us by, and the mother called to her husband that the boardwalk was probably too hot to walk upon barefoot. (Ugh, ya think? I commented to my friend, as I stopped at that moment to put on my shoes....a dark wooden, splintery boardwalk that has a sign at the entrance that clearly states: Shoes are Recommended" must have been overlooked by the hapless mother...but I digress and that's not the point of my story....)
At the point at which the family with the shoeless child passed, two conversations were had between my friend and I. You know, it was one of those "Jinx, buy me a Coke" moments when we both turned to each other at the exact, same time to comment on what just happened. Except you usually only buy your friend a Coke when the same thought comes out of each others' mouths. In this case, it was not the same but still of interest to me...follow along.
So my friend's reaction to the family was to wonder what was happening at that very same time with her husband and kids at her home. She started to question if one kid would have a sunburn and if her other kid would be wearing any sunscreen at all. She wondered aloud if her husband would be smart enough to remember to apply a second application of sunscreen after the kids got out of the pool. Blah blah blah.
She essentially STOPPED being on a vacation and allowed herself to slip back into her role she played at home....the leading lady part of "Mother." I betcha if she had her cell phone handy, she would have made a call there and then to ensure the worrisome sunscreen was reapplied.
I, on the other hand, had this immediate and gratifying thought at the very same second within our "jinx, buy me a coke" moment. Here's what crossed my mind with glee: Thank god for girls' trips so I don't have to THINK about that for the next 72 hours!
I laugh at my friend. Why do you think about that now?, I rib her. This is your time, I remind. Truthfully, she's not very good at forgetting, even for a while, and truthfully, I can be very good at forgetting.
Once a year, I go away with my girlfriends and leave the worry, cleaning, shopping, cooking, preparing, planning, chicken nuggets, bathing, laundry, work, husband, stress, responsibilities, appointments, organizing, compromising, kids, and check-lists all home and take off for three days of me.
It's all about me... and sun, and me and drinks, and me and exercising (or not), and me and my friends. It's me, me, me. I smiled as I had that thought of carelessness regarding sunscreen on my kids. I know my husband will take care of it. The kids will be perfectly fine without me for three measly days. So, of course, I torment my poor friend and poke fun at her for not playing along as well as I.
But truthfully, later, soberly, I have to question if it IS okay to turn off my brain for a while. Am I being selfish? Should I call home more often than my once-daily check-in? Am I being a bad mother or wife? Maybe I should have a little guilt. I mean what would all this pleasure be for if not somehow counterbalanced with a little Jewish guilt, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. But not today for me.
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