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Mental Vacation Moms Escape to Somewhere Sunny and Childless mom blogger  Misty Nelson

You know those days where you feel like you really are gonna go just completely bats**t crazy. Your kids wake up an extra hour early and launch into a game of destroy and destruct everything in site. You jump in the shower to steal a quick minute for yourself, and “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” the water heater is out. Of course it is! And this is the last thing that you want to worry about. You can’t leave this unrepaired, so you decide to contact somewhere like Sharp Plumbing & Heating ( to come and inspect and fix your water heater for you. Once you have done this, you know it won’t be long until you have access to warm water again. Phew! When you’ve finally got them fed, changed a diaper and spent 20 minutes on the potty routine to no avail, then Offfcourse, there’s another diaper to be changed somehow.

 Finally dressed you head out the door and towards the car and while fighting with the carseat buckle to strap the little one in you hear “mommy, ewwwwwww!” You look over at your child as he’s stomping and rubbing the sole of his shoe into the floorboard carpet. “I stepped in poop mom!” OFFFFFCOURSE you did! 

These are the days when I have to mentally check out from this parenting deal. In real life I’m a mom who is gonna be late to work again with another explanation that sounds too crazy to be true, but who would make this sh*t up. And literally, I do mean sh*t! 

I love my kids, they are my heart and soul and I give them every ounce of my being, but occasionally I need to escape to somewhere where children don’t exist. A world where I sleep in until whatever hour my body needs to recover from the multiple glasses of wine I drank at an expensive dinner that I do not have to share with grabby little fingers or feel guilty over while mentally checking off the list of diapers and dentist visits it would have covered. My mind lingers over thoughts of the things I did the night before with a partner who never once mentioned what might be on tv or felt the need to share the current state of his digestive system with me. 

I’ll take a long, hot shower and soak in the peace and quiet, something I blissfully took for granted prior to having children. After spending plenty of time lathering myself with lotion, blowing out my hair and putting on makeup I’ll pull open my closet doors (without being impaled by baby gear crammed in every corner just in case we are crazy enough to have another one) and pick out something cute to wear. I’ll slip on a pretty, silky sundress, something that would never work in the world of momwear due to the inevitable ride up effect of “mommy pick me up!” Not to mention the sticky finger stains that ruin anything other than dark wear and wash fabrics. Or the unattractive shoulder marks that my 20 pound purse of kid snacks and necessities leaves. 

My bare feet cross over a clean kitchen floor as I start to make a cup of coffee and I ponder over all the carefree completely selfish activities I could fill my day up with. Maybe I’ll go to the spa, get a massage and manicure (valued at 2 grocery trips or 1 week of preschool.) Maybe I’ll meet some friends for a late lunch that will crossover to happy hour drinks (no negotiation with husband or last minute babysitter bribes required.) 
Maybe I’ll…….

And that’s as far as I get. Everytime. Right about then I’m snapped back to reality as my toddler pulls at my leg, asking if we can put Peppa the Pig on or if I can find the piece of Play Doh he has stuck somewhere no reasonable person would consider. “Pick me up” he’ll say and as I sigh and tell him he’s too big to be picked up anymore he’ll put his hands on my cheeks and say “mama, you booooeeefulll” and rub his little nose against mine, giving eskimo kisses and giggling. And that’s when all my caviar wishes and vacation dreams vanish, just like that and I remember this is my dream. A thousand lazy days of freedom could never ever compare to even one “crappy” day as a mom, because even the toughest days are marked by little lightning bolts of joy that run so deep you feel magnanimous. So completely loved and so full of love you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Ask me again though when bath time strikes, a margarita might easily change my mind…. 


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