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Parenting
By: Jessica L. Moore
Updated: Dec. 18, 2015
Originally Published: July 31, 2014
Not too long ago—well, it was just two years, but in the world of children, that feels like an eternity—my partner, Mark, and I had a delightful weekend tradition. Each Sunday, we would hire a babysitter to watch our then 3-year-old daughter, Mia, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. This was our time to enjoy brunch, take leisurely strolls through our Brooklyn neighborhood, play Frisbee with our dog, and, most importantly, reconnect after a chaotic week spent juggling work and family responsibilities.
Those three hours felt like a warm-up, because at 1 p.m. sharp, we would relieve the babysitter, settle Mia down for her afternoon nap, and retreat to our bedroom for a blissful afternoon of intimacy and relaxation. Ah, those were the days—until the inevitable happened: Mia stopped napping, and our routine fell apart.
Fast forward a few years. Mia is now 5 and in kindergarten at our local public school. Mark and I are both freelancers, working from home, trying to squeeze in our tasks before her 2:45 p.m. dismissal, when one of us takes over childcare. While our budget is tight, we cherish the quality time we spend with Mia—at least when school is in session. When breaks come around, however, that’s a whole different story.
As spring break approached in April, we felt the familiar dread of working parents who can’t afford vacations or daytime sitters (and our regular evening babysitters have day jobs). We knew we would be facing an entire week with Mia at home. Oh no!
In a frantic scramble, we arranged playdates and searched for movies on Netflix she might enjoy. Then, an email popped up from her school, announcing a spring break camp. Excitedly, a thread among the moms in Mia’s class began discussing their chosen days. “Lily’s doing Tuesday Zoo, Bowling Thursday, and Movie Friday!” wrote one mom. “Jake’s doing those too!” another replied. I decided we could manage two days.
Mia picked Arts & Crafts Wednesday—a day filled with creative fun (her favorite), a playground visit, and planting in the school’s fantastic garden. That sealed the deal for her. However, by the time I registered, the bowling spots were filled. I happily paid $90 for Wednesday, grateful Mia could at least enjoy one day of festivities.
Then it hit me—Mark and I deserved some fun too. It was spring break, after all! I instructed him to clear his schedule for what I dubbed Foreplay Day Date and Sex Wednesday.
Spring break commenced, and after two days of having Mia at home, we were all ready for camp. But when we arrived at her school, things felt a bit off. The main entrance was open, yet there were no signs indicating where the camp was or acknowledging its existence.
Mark chuckled, “Do you think camp is at a different location?”
“It can’t be,” I replied. A father exited with his child, equally perplexed. We followed the distant sounds to the cafeteria. Entering the gray room (a stark contrast to the school’s bright colors), an unidentified woman handed us a clipboard to sign Mia in and then vanished.
Mark whispered, “Shouldn’t there be a counselor?”
“Maybe one of those adults in the back?” I suggested, eyeing the few grown-ups who weren’t engaging with the kids already there.
Before us lay four stations of self-directed activities: crayons, sticks and marshmallows, Legos, and dolls. I silently pleaded to my agnostic god: Please let this be a temporary setup until the real counselors arrive to lead the promised projects and take them outside for gardening.
With forced optimism, we encouraged Mia, “Look! Crayons and paper! How about some drawing?” She sat down, unimpressed. We hugged her goodbye, and not a single adult noticed our departure.
Once outside, I remarked, “That was a bit disheartening.”
Mark squeezed my hand. “Mia will be fine.”
“Anyone could walk in there and take a child without anyone noticing,” I pointed out.
“After everything we’ve done for her, she can take one for the team. Trust me.”
With that, we left our guilt behind and officially began our day of freedom. We strolled, enjoyed breakfast, and returned home to pop open the prosecco we had bought for the occasion. Time flew by, and soon it was time to pick Mia up. At least we were clear on where to go this time.
Mia ran to us, exclaiming, “Mommy! Daddy!” We embraced her warmly. Before leaving, she waved goodbye to Elly, a new friend she had made while playing.
As we stepped outside, I asked, “So, how was camp?”
She let out a long sigh. “I didn’t really like it.”
“Oh?” I said, feeling deflated. “Why not?”
“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, “you made a new friend.”
“Well, we didn’t plant anything, and there were no arts and crafts.”
“Did you at least go to the playground?”
“Yeah,” she replied, with little enthusiasm. “You know, it just felt like a really, really long day.”
Post-afternoon guilt washed over me as I mentally drafted a complaint email to demand our money back. But by dinner time, Mia had bounced back, and I figured the excellent school deserved the payment, even if this day was a flop.
Today marks the first day of Mia’s summer break—eight weeks of freedom. This time, she’s going to camp for the month of July. It’s her first experience, and I’m confident she’ll love it—not only because it’s not in her school’s cafeteria but also because we attended their open house and it was completely amazing.
Next April, when first-grade spring break arrives, Mia will still attend the school camp, but with a few key adjustments:
- I’ll sign her up faster than a hot knife through butter.
- She’ll only attend on field trip days.
- I’ll stock up on two bottles of prosecco instead of one.
In the world of parenting, it’s all about learning and adapting while ensuring both your child and your relationship thrive.