dream vacation?

i spent the week before our family vacation telling myself that i would soon be relaxing. as i did laundry, packed clothes, hunted down beach towels, bought sunblock, i told myself that soon i would be relaxing. i will be up north, on the lake, taking morning walks on the beach, swimming in the waves, going to sleep with the sounds of crickets. this was my mantra as i did the dishes after the dinner battle we have with the kids every night.

finally we were up north. ah, i could exhale now. now i can breathe deep and relax. then i began unpacking the clothes, went to the grocery store, made dinner, hung beach towels on the line, scooped dog poop from the yard and did the dishes.

what is funny (or depressing, depending on your antidepressant doseage) is that this morning i woke up feeling recharged. i told myself that this monday is the beginning of a fresh week. a fresh start. time to get back to business with a fresh perspective. i was doing the dishes this morning (yes, from the dinner the night before, again, think about the serving fork in the neck of my adoring husband) and the realization hit me like a wall.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A VACATION FOR ME. I DO THE SAME SHIT UP NORTH THAT I DO AT HOME. THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE.

what should have been a moment where i burst into tears and run for my bed, i instead, found myself laughing. laughing so hard out loud that my daughter came in to check on me.

"what is it, mommy?"

yes, it is rare to see the mommy in her natural habitat in a fit of giggles.

"mommy just has the squirrels," i told her.

her face was frozen in utter confusion. i sat down on the floor of the kitchen and pulled her into my lap. i explained what "the squirrels" are and she enjoyed my ability to giggle like silly, just like her. i was caught up in this moment of recognition about my life and what kind of person i have become. i am coming to terms with my reality. sometimes it just doesn't get any better than that. i may not get a vacation anymore, but i can share a case of the giggles with my little girl.

there i was in my little moment of joy, my daughter in her princess nightgown, still warm and smelling of sleep. i hugged her to me and she whispered,

"mommy, don't get my beautiful nightgown wet. you know, your hands are wet. you should get a towel and dry them off. i don't want to be all wet. i will get cold and i will get sick. i will throw up and i don't want to throw up on my beautiful nightgown. it is my favorite one. see the princesses. they don't want to get wet. they don't want to get sick. remember when i threw up on you and all over your bed. was that disgusting?"

yes, it was. but i don't tell her that. instead i get up, dry off my hands on a dish towel. i turn to show her my hands are dry and there is no risk of contaminating her or the princesses on the nightgown, but she is gone. off to her busy schedule that nowadays involves me less. i am left alone in my sunny kitchen feeling dreamy and disconnected.