What Goes Through Every Mom’s Head when She’s Away from Her Kids

What Goes Through Every Mom’s Head when She’s Away from Her Kids
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Okay, so I did what every mom dreams of and headed off for a break to the Maldives with my hubby after dropping the kids off at my parents. Whether it’s a two-hour break from your kids for that dental appointment, or those long working hours when they’re in the care of others, or a guilt-inducing holiday or weekend without the kids, all moms think these thoughts when we are away from our kids. Let’s call them mini-epiphanies:

Epiphany #1. It doesn’t have to be THAT hard. Yes, mommyhood is hard and we have been saying that for ages. Well, everyone except our Middle-Eastern grandmothers. But I guess it clicked. Somewhere in between my boat ride and less-than-stable, one-engine flight to our mini-holiday without the kids, I got it.

Not the typical epiphany of Life is Beautiful, or that it’s all rainbows and unicorn magic … No, I was right there with the magic being the mess. I had an oh-wow moment as in, let-me-pause-for-a-second. I really don’t have to complicate stuff. And do I? Of course I do because I am the way that I am – enthusiastic with a series of “eeeeeee’s” until my energy burns me dry because it’s the only way I know how to be.

Takeaway from #1: Like it says right there on my website’s strap line: Breathe!! And stop complicating everything in my brain.

Epiphany #2. I need to be around nature. And dragging the kids to a random park in Dubai to a kids’ play date is not enough. I mean, don’t get me wrong… The kids’ park time is something, but it’s not that Dalai Lama-ish connect to nature we all deep down strive for. Once you have that reconnection to nature you want that high again. After being in nature I feel small and insignificant and totally helpless, but driven and strangely energized. And yes, this is how I typically feel after any Dubai networking event (usually with an extra dollop of ‘insignificant’) but this was real and involved less coffee, more greenery.

Takeaway from #2: Find grass I can walk barefoot on. Or sand, more likely, given the fact that I live in Dubai.

Epiphany #3. I actually do love my husband. No, like a lot. Not just like, oh wow he’s so cute and orders what I like to eat off the menu for us to share. I don’t have to post it on Instagram and tell everyone on Facebook the latest gifts he’s gotten me well, because that would be obnoxious. Useless. Fake. He gives me the last bite. Usually. And is super cute in scuba gear and unpretentious posing for pics. He rolls his eyes only after I’ve make 4 jokes in a row at dinner. Not 3. No, his cap is 4 and I love that his cap is 4, not 3. He Googles things like “how to survive a riptide” as I’m busy tanning and “reading” Instyle magazine.

Takeaway from #3. Remember why you decided to procreate with your other half. It’s not all about the kids. It started with you and another human and (don’t gag) L-O-V-E.

Epiphany #4. There is a flood of guilty-mama thoughts that torrent through your brain as you’re tanning and reading trashy celeb magazines. Well, again, “reading.” Here’s a 5-second snippet:

  1. Are they okay?
  2. Do they miss me?
  3. How mad are they going to be when I come back all tanned and relaxed?
  4. Am I going to need more breaks in the future?
  5. How am I going to explain that I’ve gotten used to starting my mornings off with a mimosa or 3?
  6. God, I’m going to have bad tan lines.
  7. I wonder if my daughter will ever drop her kids off at mine and head off for a break.

Takeaway from #4. We’ve circled back to #1 here. Breathe. That helps. Most of your worry and inner guilt-fest is unanswerable or can be alleviated by a quick What’s App to your mom who has your kids (or the babysitter, or whoever’s in charge instead of you). Bask in the epiphanies and takeaways and order one more Pina Colada. Your kids are okay. They miss you but they’re not mad. It doesn’t have to be THAT hard. No, that level of difficulty is saved for potty training. And teething…and a whole list of other obstacles in mommyhood.

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