Picture this: warm sun, soft sand beneath my feet, a fruity drink in my hand—yet somehow, I found myself crying behind my sunglasses. I had been eagerly anticipating this solo vacation for what felt like ages, my first in 15 years. But as I settled into a hammock with a perfect view of the sunset, tears began to flow.
Perhaps it was exhaustion from the two flights that brought me to Costa Rica, or maybe it was hunger because the kale chips and gluten-free blueberry bar I had on my overnight flight didn’t cut it. The adorable Swiss couple beside me, who were all over each other and smelled a bit too earthy, didn’t help either. But then again, maybe my tears were from sheer joy. I was finally checking off one of my bucket list items—learning to surf—and the excitement was overwhelming.
Yes, a mix of exhaustion, hunger, and happiness was more than enough to bring on the tears, but how could I explain the sobbing that hit me like a freight train once I finally made it to my room? I collapsed onto the crisp white sheets of my king-sized bed, feeling utterly lost.
After years of nurturing my three daughters—navigating through their Lego creations, comforting them during their ups and downs, and being their constant support—I was finally alone. Yet, I felt an unexpected loneliness. Despite my daily need for alone time, I had not anticipated how much I would miss my chaotic yet fulfilling life.
I usually carve out little pockets of time for myself—20 minutes here, an hour there—just to regroup and calm my nerves. These snippets of solitude are usually filled with exercise, list-making, and a few moments of stillness, although I hesitate to call it meditation. My previous getaways, whether a one-night escape or the cherished annual girls’ trip, never provided enough time for me to fully detach from being a mom.
Now, with an entire week away from my kids, my husband, and my familiar surroundings, I was shocked to find myself feeling anxious. My husband is more than capable of managing the kids without me, and my two older daughters are mostly independent. Even my youngest, while demanding, can manage simple tasks like getting her snacks and using the bathroom. So why was I struggling to let go of home?
When my eldest daughters were small, I yearned for a break. Just a few hours on weekends when my husband took the kids felt like a precious gift, and a tropical vacation where I could indulge in solitude was a distant dream. Fast forward a decade, and I found myself living that dream—only it was back home. It took being thousands of miles away to realize that I didn’t actually need a break from my life anymore.
I didn’t miss the responsibilities or the routines of parenting; what I missed were my children—their laughter, their quirks, and the way I knew how to support each one through their challenges. Life as a family is demanding and requires a lot of effort, but I’ve grown to embrace it. My life is filled with chaos, love, routine, and those beautiful, ordinary moments that make it all worthwhile.
That night, I drifted off to sleep while listening to the lullabies my youngest loves. I woke up with puffy eyes, still missing home, yet eager to discover who I am beyond “Mom.” And guess what? I turned out to be quite the surfer!
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In summary, my solo vacation turned into a revelation that I no longer needed a break from my kids. Instead, what I truly craved was the love and chaos of family life, which I had come to cherish over the years.