I’ve spent the past few days re-reading your advice about letting my kid go to Hawaii. Alone.
“You’ll miss her, but you’ll get over it,” wrote Jen at Semantically Driven. “I’m sure you deserve a week to yourself.”
“Do it,” commanded Bad Mummy. “Some space is good for the both of you.”
First, thank you so much for chiming in! But here’s what kind of shocked me: NOT one of you told me to keep my kid at home.
So, I checked in with M one more time. Me: “Are you sure?”
Her: “I’m sure, I’m sure!!”
I got all ready to call her friend’s grandparents — to thank them profusely. No doubt, I do need some time off. In fact, Dr. Leah, aka The Sanity Fairy , has been encouraging me to take a little breather. I can’t pretend that I’m doing this all and staying sane. (You get that, don’t you?)
Still, I worried. (Some might use stronger words, like “obsessed.”)
Here’s what really felt hard: nine days. She and I have never been apart for more than three days. I could do a week. I’m sure that she could too, easy. But nine days… NINE DAYS!
In the meantime, that LG listened to me worry. I went on and on — and that’s when we both looked at each other and smiled. Wait, what if?… Why don’t we go to Hawaii, too?
No, it’s not what you think. I’m not hiding in my kid’s suitcase. I’m not going as a chaperon. And I’m not going to tag along for kids’ snow cones.
But I AM going to hike for one week, adults only, while my kid lives it up on her own. At the week’s end, I’ll pick her up for a few days of family fun, including snorkeling for her first time, before we head home.
And hey, if she misses me, we’ll always be on the same island, right?… Okay, I’ll stop now.
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