Vacation Time
We've been spending the last week before school starts out at my parents' cabin at Stinson Beach. (I say cabin because it is a tiny little two-bedroom house whose outer walls are literally made from round logs laid horizontally. Way cuter than Little House on the Prairie though.) Stinson has been our traditional holiday family vacation place for roughly 20 years now, although my parents only bought this cabin back in 1999 (we rented various places before that). When we're here we mostly just hang around, with a trip or two to the beach each day (especially important when you have crazy young kids who need to get their ya-yas out). I love it here, even when it's overcast or foggy (as it's been this whole week so far). I love the beach, the hills, the smells, the oysters, the sandcastles and shell collecting, the walks through the surf, the sitting around the cabin (sometimes with fire in the woodburning stove, sometimes not).
But what I've been thinking about this visit is how different vacation time is when you're sharing it with two little kids, as opposed to the times when we used to come out here as teens/young adults with my parents, or when Josh and I came out here by ourselves BK (before kids). For me, vacation time was always super slow time, where I'd sleep in late, and read all day, with perhaps a stroll or a game of cribbage or cards to break up the routine (or in later years, fiddling with pictures or music or writing on the computer). The time was completely my own; other than being expected to help with meal preparation and cleanup, I could entertain myself with those things I loved best (which were generally all passive, sit-on-your-butt type activities; I've never been much of a "let's go for a hike up the mountain!" kinda girl). I wasn't beholden to anyone else's entertainment needs. I could be relatively solitary and inward facing--not the usual state I operate in, but necessary a couple times a year for recharging my extrovert's batteries.
I know this is not exactly shocking news, but with two young kids (and a generalized feeling of parental guilt over kids watching too much TV), my time is just not my own on vacation anymore. I still get to do fun things and create precious memories (playing on the beach with kids is pretty awesome, for example), but my days are much more active, and much less solitary. From the moment I'm awoken (usually shortly after dawn) and throughout the day, I'm thrown into the maelstrom of food, entertainment, and referee needs. I can carve out a little time here and there while the kids are momentarily not pulling at me, but those big chunks of lazy reading time (let alone the work we're still trying to catch up on while we're out here)? Only after the kids are in bed. So I stay up too late and the next morning's dawn wakeup call is even harder. Josh and I take turns sleeping in, and the kids are getting more self-sufficient about getting themselves food and turning on the TV themselves, but I still get woken up several times by the sheer raucousness of everything happening nearby in a small and not very soundproof house. So vacation time is not really...well, relaxing anymore.
I know this will change, that there will be a point where the kids are more self-sufficient or at least more able to entertain themselves, but right now? I'm frustrated. And more, I'm guilty about being so frustrated--I mean, they're my kids, right? I love them and family time is a priority. And yet...I still wish I had more reading and writing and personal project time (let alone more sleep). Balance, as of yet, totally eludes me.
(I want to point out that this post took me a couple of days and much starting-and-stopping to produce. I rest my case.)
But what I've been thinking about this visit is how different vacation time is when you're sharing it with two little kids, as opposed to the times when we used to come out here as teens/young adults with my parents, or when Josh and I came out here by ourselves BK (before kids). For me, vacation time was always super slow time, where I'd sleep in late, and read all day, with perhaps a stroll or a game of cribbage or cards to break up the routine (or in later years, fiddling with pictures or music or writing on the computer). The time was completely my own; other than being expected to help with meal preparation and cleanup, I could entertain myself with those things I loved best (which were generally all passive, sit-on-your-butt type activities; I've never been much of a "let's go for a hike up the mountain!" kinda girl). I wasn't beholden to anyone else's entertainment needs. I could be relatively solitary and inward facing--not the usual state I operate in, but necessary a couple times a year for recharging my extrovert's batteries.
I know this is not exactly shocking news, but with two young kids (and a generalized feeling of parental guilt over kids watching too much TV), my time is just not my own on vacation anymore. I still get to do fun things and create precious memories (playing on the beach with kids is pretty awesome, for example), but my days are much more active, and much less solitary. From the moment I'm awoken (usually shortly after dawn) and throughout the day, I'm thrown into the maelstrom of food, entertainment, and referee needs. I can carve out a little time here and there while the kids are momentarily not pulling at me, but those big chunks of lazy reading time (let alone the work we're still trying to catch up on while we're out here)? Only after the kids are in bed. So I stay up too late and the next morning's dawn wakeup call is even harder. Josh and I take turns sleeping in, and the kids are getting more self-sufficient about getting themselves food and turning on the TV themselves, but I still get woken up several times by the sheer raucousness of everything happening nearby in a small and not very soundproof house. So vacation time is not really...well, relaxing anymore.
I know this will change, that there will be a point where the kids are more self-sufficient or at least more able to entertain themselves, but right now? I'm frustrated. And more, I'm guilty about being so frustrated--I mean, they're my kids, right? I love them and family time is a priority. And yet...I still wish I had more reading and writing and personal project time (let alone more sleep). Balance, as of yet, totally eludes me.
(I want to point out that this post took me a couple of days and much starting-and-stopping to produce. I rest my case.)
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