Tag: me time

Why holidays without kids are essential for moms

Why holidays without kids are essential for moms

I wasn’t born an Obsessivemom. Truly I wasn’t. Like I said before
I wasn’t even a kid-friendly person till the twins came along. And then I was transformed into a mum – all of me. And I’m not complaining. Well most of the time I’m not. Oh okay… I don’t really mean it even if I do.

Every mum needs a break

But mums need a break, even obsessive moms. Not just from the kids but also from home and the entire shebang that comes with it – Is there bread for tomorrow, Did I put the curd for setting, The printer’s down again, Did the kids finish their homework? What shall I make for lunch, Ah the maid isn’t coming in again — A break from the mental preoccupation that comes with the territory.
Last week, after much debating (with myself) and plenty of prodding (from friends and family) we planned a break without the kids – three of my pals and I. I won’t write about what we did there. No, we didn’t paint the town red, we didn’t booze till the sun came up, we didn’t break into a song and dance in the market place – yet it was a holiday we’re not likely to forget in a hurry.

It was a holiday where the usual everyday stuff was special in its simplicity, only because we were four relaxed women shorn of our everyday responsibilities and worries. We had no agenda, no places to visit, no shopping to do, no hurry to get anywhere.

I recommend it strongly for every mum – in fact the more you are into your kids the more you need to do this.


Here’s why:

It puts you in touch with
your before-the-kids-came-along self 

– often the more fun carefree you. With the kids you become a different person – you need to be a different
person – responsible and grown up and more than a little anxious.
While on holiday we broke our own rules. We had snacks for lunch, roamed the markets till late at night, stopped at whatever took our fancy, stayed up talking books past midnight then lazed in bed next morning and lingered over breakfast.
An outing like this puts you in touch with the fun-relaxed you, reminding you of the joy of letting go once in a while. When you come back with that reminder you become a more fun-relaxed mum – and that’s good for the kids.

It’s gives you
a reality check..

…bringing home the fact that the kids can survive without you and
happily so. Which, for a sane mum, is the most liberating of thoughts. It makes
you less clingy, (If you thought only kids were clingy, think again)
encouraging you to give the kids more freedom, equipping them to handle
more responsibility which is good for them, right?

It shows you a new side to
your kids

My SIL, who was with the twins while I was away, said she grew sick of listening to
them saying, ‘Mama said… , ‘Mama said…’, ‘Mama said…’. This was amazing
because it meant they had actually been listening while I was talking and
were doing what I asked them to in my absence. Woohoo a miracle! With this new found perspective I can perhaps begin
to perceive them as somewhat responsible tweens rather than the babies I
think them to be…. and that’s good for them.

Oh and it’s rejuvenating

..which means you can get back to the task of mothering with ever
more happiness and enthusiasm and the belief that you are on the right track.
Which means you can be a better mum — and that again – yes you got it – is good
for the kids.
So for your kids’ sake – take that break. 

Disclaimer: Let me clarify – this is just a way of selling the idea to mums who think they’ll be deserting the kids if they go on vacation. You should do this more for yourself than for the kids or the husband. You should do it even if life for them isn’t quite perfect when you’re away. You should do it even if they protest. They’ll learn to value you more when you’re around. 

You owe it to yourself.

If we were having coffee … 2

If we were having coffee … 2

If we were having coffee I’d probably be gushing today because I’m H.A.P.P.Y. You’d have to struggle to get in a word but you might as well give up because I’m too excited to let you have your turn. And then when you’d throw up your hands in despair because I wouldn’t be making any sense in my eagerness to explain, I’d calm down enough to tell you that I was  going on a holiday… with friends… just us.

Our coffees would lie untouched as I’d go on about how excited I was because it was the very first time I was doing this in ten whole years – since I had the kids. The only other time I travelled without them was for my sister’s surgery so that didn’t really count (even though it turned out to be a kind of a Roman Holiday for me).

And no matter how much you rolled your eyes (because you’re the cool, calm, collected kind of friend) or tried to say it wasn’t a big deal my spirits would refuse to dampen because it was a big deal.

If we were having coffee I’d tell you of the crazy bunch I’m going with. How one was only thinking about the clothes she’d carry and the pictures we’d click while the other couldn’t stop dreaming of strawberries and cream. And I’d tell you how all I was looking forward to was a clean quiet room to revel in for one whole day.

‘Drink your coffee’, you’d say and then proceed to ask How? What about the kids? And a tiny line of worry would probably cloud my forehead as I’d reach for my coffee and, even though I was feeling a tad unsure, I’d tell you they were well looked after in my absence. As I assured you I’d probably be reassuring myself too.

If we were having coffee I’d tell you about my SIL who had volunteered to take care of the kids. And then as I would think of her calm smiling face the worry lines would melt because I know she’s good with them. She’d make sure N had a tiffin of her choice, she’d run after H mock threatening to embarrass him by hugging him as she dropped him off to school, she’d pamper them silly and they’d probably think I was back too soon.

And as I tell you this I’d fill up with gratitude for a wonderfully supportive family; for having people in my life who step in to lend a hand without my asking; who brush away my guilt trips with their no-nonsense talk.

I’d tell you how grateful I was for the way the kids had handled it with N making me promise to send her selfies ‘on Bua’s phone’ while H had sacrificed a birthday party without much of a tantrum.

As we would drain our cups I’d feel better for having talked to you, for having aired my worries and chased them away. And I’d tell you how grateful I was to have you to share my joys and sorrows always.

****************