I’ve just had a lovely, relaxing, baby free, night away at a hotel with my sister. We both have toddlers so the break was planned weeks ago; it was planned to within an inch of it’s life to make sure we got the most out of it.
We spent the afternoon relaxing in the pool, jacuzzi and steam room. It was absolute bliss.
After all that relaxing it was time to get ready for dinner. In peace. With no interruptions. There was rushing around, and we even managed to sit down and watch Emmerdale, in peace, before leaving.
We arrived at the restaurant and ordered our food and drink. Ahhh Prosecco…
We could engage in quiet, uninterrupted adult conversation and eat our food in peace. We didn’t have to have stern words or give the look to anyone. There were no signs of anyone crawling under the table picking food up off the floor because the child thinks it’s funny to see mummy crawling around like that.
The food was lovely, the Prosecco was amazing, and the company was perfect. We finished dinner and then we went to the cinema.
We were able to sit and eat our popcorn without sticky toddler hands all over it. There was a 100% chance of no toddler throw back in our drinks. We could sit in silence and watch a full film without having to pause and rewind it several times before giving up, and inevitabley putting Cbeebies back on. I mean, there are only so many times I can listen to my toddler screaming “want tumble” at the top of her lungs before giving in..
The film was amazing. But it was time to head back to the hotel. We both climbed in our beds, exhausted from all our relaxing! The next thing I know it was morning. I must have dropped off as soon as my head hit the pillow. What a luxury!
We got ready and went down for breakfast. It was a buffet breakfast so even though I wasn’t that hungry, I went completely overboard. It felt compulsory that I should.. I wouldn’t eat a croissant, followed by a yoghurt and then onto a cooked breakfast at home so why I thought I could manage all that in a hotel I don’t know..
With the end of breakfast came time to check out and head home. I didn’t want to leave my hotel room. I wanted to move into the hotel and do all this relaxing every day, but I knew I couldn’t and honestly, I couldn’t wait to get home.
As much as I was looking forward to a nice break away, and my sister and I both had an amazing time, I couldn’t help but miss and worry constantly about my baby girl the entire time I was at the hotel.
Did her dad pick her up from nursery ok? Did he check what her homework was for this week? What is daddy making her for dinner? Has the bedtime routine gone as planned? Has she stayed in bed asleep or has she been up and down all night? How much breakfast has she eaten? Have there been any tantrums? Has she been out to the park or anywhere else?
I really enjoyed being at the hotel but I must admit I felt guilty the entire time I was there. I had a bad case of guilty mama syndrome and couldn’t enjoy the break as much as I should have, because Molly wasn’t there. When we went swimming I felt guilty because Molly loves swimming. I felt guilty about going to a nice restaurant because guess what, Molly likes food. I even felt guilty about going to the cinema because Molly likes watching things on the television (more than I would care to admit..)!
Why did I feel guilty for having a break? I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it. I was so glad to get back home and give my daughter a massive hug and kiss. She was so happy to see me. The sparkle in her eyes and then her coming charging for me when I walked through the door made my eyes fill up. She had missed me as much as I had missed her. I was never leaving her again!
Ten minutes later she was having a tantrum and I was texting my sister to see when she next wants to go for a night away..
I was back to reality.. with a bang!
Do you ever get a case of guilty mama syndrome if you dare to even think about doing something for yourself? I wonder if the feelings of guilty mama syndrone ease as our children get older?
You can also find me blogging at Serenely Sam