Let me rephrase…it IS okay to not miss your kids.
Once a year, I work in Vegas for a week. One glorious, indulgent, sleep-filled, adult week. "Vegas Baby!" takes a whole new meaning once you're a mom. To be clear, I'm not a what-happens-in-Vegas-stays-in-Vegas type of person, unless what's happening in Vegas is uninterrupted showers and reality TV watching in bed, and since I know that those activities will be staying in Vegas, I'm about to get it on!
I feel like I should miss my son terribly, but I'm too busy marveling at how dark blackout curtains make my hotel room, and how spacious a Queen bed is without a 4 year old's bony knees pressed against my spine. And the quiet! Casinos have nothing on the vocal power of my son. I glide through them blissed out, a perma-grin on my face, relishing being solely responsible for myself. It's a decadent, sinful feeling.
I have one week to go to the gym, sleep, work, shop, and be alone. I have dinner with co-workers and we eat slowly and talk (mostly about our kids) uninterrupted, except by a lovely waiter bringing us more wine. I wear my grown-up clothes, worry-free that anyone might spill/smear/wipe their nose on them. No one bangs on the door when I'm in the bathroom. I eat chips in bed.
I make it to the gym only for the promise of a steam and a shower after the workout. I've always silently judged those ladies in the "quiet rooms" at the spa. What they were doing just sitting there, reading a magazine, drinking herbal tea? Didn't they have things to do? Who has time like that? Now I know. They are women working out of town away from their kids. I join them and we exchange tiny smiles, blissfully sipping our tea, fashion magazines in hand, awaiting massages with Pablo.
Truth be told, I do miss my son's sweet little face. And even his bony knees. When I told him that I was going out of town to work for a week and that I would miss him, he said, "Don't worry mommy, we'll face chatter from Daddy's house." My heart soared because he just gave me the best gift of all: sweet mom permission to go and be me. So while other people party it up and indulge in assorted Vegas-like activities, my Vegas week consists of washing my hair, waking up by myself and not asking anyone to pick up their socks. Sin city, indeed!
Diane Mizota, Host of This Week in M.O.M
What's your mom indulgence? How do you get away from it all?