For the first time since becoming parents, my husband and I vacationed, alone. My eldest child just turned 10.
Ten years without a single escape from the realities of parenthood for more than a five-hour date night. A decade worth of time to forget what it was like to be him, and me, and us together without being Mommy and Daddy.
For ten years, I felt too guilty to think about an adult vacation. There was, of course, some guilt around leaving my kids behind, about not appreciating every tiny, little second of their lives, as all of the parenting memes insist that we do. My youngest is 4, so there was always a baby at home, someone who was a lot of work to take care of, harder to pawn off on a grandparent for more than an evening. But above all else, the guilt revolved around spending money (sometimes a scarce commodity around our house) on myself.
As we are all well aware, when it comes to raising children, there is a never-ending demand for funds: lessons, sports, toys, that…