A few weeks ago the kids and I went to Miami, Beach for a little vacation during their mid-winter break. At first I had made plans to go to Mexico to visit friends, but with a few things buzzing around in New York, I felt as if a longer trip but with a shorter distance was best. It was such a good call!
It’s actually the first time I’ve flown alone with the kids (when we went to Florida last year, my older cousin/their occasional sitter, came with us). I was so excited to connect with the kids alone. I was excited to take photos and swim in the ocean. I was excited at the thought of being lazy and eating food all day. It was all simple really, but also so difficult to plan and stick to prior to going.
The kids were salty and their hair was curly. We got sunburned, though we all tried hard to prevent it. I laid on a beach chair and watched as they threw themselves in the ocean with abandoned. I choked up a few times too, because the vision of freedom for a moment in time was right there in front of me. My kids, wild and free and happy. Their souls and mine, unequivocally rested.
All of this to say, that it was also difficult at times. Waking up in one bed in a hotel (that also serves as a fancy hostel?). Their desire to want to go out and walk first thing in the morning, before I even wiped my eyes. And of course, the self-employed juggle that requires I just answer a few emails everyday, even when on vacation. An imbalanced balance, and honestly the sweetest oxymoron of time and memories.