How one mom discovers that traveling without familial baggage is not only pretty fucking awesome, but it allows her find herself again.
Full disclosure: This post was written four days ago. I have no real solid excuses for my subsequent tardiness except shitty wi-fi. And maybe a little vacation brain. But mostly wine.
I’m traveling today. Alone. By myself. No kids. No husband. No sippy cups. No poop or pee in places it shouldn’t be. Just me. On vacation. Visiting a friend. Without children. Ouch! (Sorry, just pinched myself.)
Let me tell you, it’s a pretty crazy freeing to be alone in the airport, or any public place that isn’t Target for that matter. And then to know that this special brand of freedom will last for days not hours?! I feel like I just found a golden fucking ticket in my chocolate bar. And I don’t have to sneak bites of that chocolate bar or share bites of that chocolate bar or, let’s be real, shove that entire chocolate bar down my throat before any of my offspring catch on to the fact that a chocolate bar is in their general vicinity.
But without anyone to look after, reign in or yell at, I also feel…disoriented. Not entirely myself. Where’s the stress? Where’s the sweating? Where’s the muted swearing? It’s kind of like that moment when you drive away from the house and suddenly feel like you forgot something important, like a burning candle in the living room. Sure, just like leaving my kids and husband to fend for themselves, that candle might burn the whole house down. But do I need to do anything about it?
Nope! Fuck it. I’m on vacation. I’ll deal with the insurance company when I get home.
And let me also tell you, without all that extra emotional baggage that traveling with my family creates, some pretty magical stuff is happening to me. Like, I was actually totally OK with going through security. I even felt like the TSA agents were…nice. I was so delighted to only be responsible for my own body scanning, basket shoving and shoe off-ing and on-ing that I even walked right past my favorite airport Starbucks afterward. (Yes, I have a favorite airport Starbucks. I really don’t travel often. I just really like Starbucks.)
I guess I just got all swept up in a nice, leisurely, untethered walk toward my gate, taking note of all the local MPLS restaurants and bakeries that have set up shop since the last time my freshly-pedi’d feet walked this ground (looking at you, Angel Food Bakery) that I was actually smiling at people. Even when the convenience store cashier announced that I racked up $29 worth of magazines and snacks, I just politely asked for a bag. No scoffy side eye. No sigh and sarcastic comment. No hesitation followed by me dramatically putting something back on the shelf merely to set an example for the 4 year-old watching my every move. All the sugary trashy stuff for me, please and thank you! And then…THEN I walked all the way BACK to Starbucks. Without me or anyone else complaining.
Seriously. Who am I right now?
I’m a lady on the loose. I’m dipping my toes in the waters of my first girls trip since my youngest was born and my first husbandless trip for the first time in like…ever? I’m slowly remembering what it’s like to be responsible only for myself, to sleep in, to give zero fucks and drink all the drinks. I’m me in college but with a bigger ass and a better bank account.
I can live with that.
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