‘I went on holiday without a husband and toddler for a few days to have time for myself’

Image: 123RF

Standing on a lonely mountaintop, Elly still thinks she hears her toddler calling. And she still went on a trip alone because she was no longer attracted to mommy.

What a beautiful view. The sun shines above my head in the cloudless sky and an Austrian mountain range reflects in the small lake in front of me. I carefully stick my big toe into the cold water. “Mommy, mama, mama”, I hear. My feelers shoot up, with a jerk I turn my head and I am immediately alert. About two long seconds later, I realize it’s not my own three-year-old buster standing there screaming for her mama. Mine is at home, far away in the Netherlands.

I feel relief and I immediately feel a little guilty about that. Ridiculous of course. I know that for sure. But yeah, turn off that feeling… I try to justify it for myself. I have me-time here, I am entitled to that. I’m not a bad mother if I don’t miss my child right away. And I can take a few days off without feeling guilty about it.

extinguished

The reason I’m standing here now? Between the mountains, at an idyllic mountain lake with a big toe that almost freezes off? Easy; the behavior of my toddler who can almost call himself a toddler. It’s not that I’ve always dreamed of running off alone. That I’m just like that man from the movie Into the wild want to conquer the northernmost snowfields. A loner I am not determined. I like to have people around me, dare to call myself a social type and occasionally – if the circumstances allow it – give the highest word. But as a mother, I’m a little worn out.

mommy obsession

Of course I can’t blame my little monkey for that, I understand that too. She just does what so many toddlers do, what is written in the books and what they label as normal behavior at the child health clinic. The bottom line is that she has quite a mama obsession (also known as a mamamamamáma obsession in our house). Dad is quite a nice guy, but everything, and really everything, has to be done with or by mom. Me, just to be clear.

In the bath, in bed and out of bed of course. But also reading a book, making a sandwich and throwing a ball. And if only she would just ask nicely… Unfortunately, she is quite forceful. “Néééhééé, mámááá”, is a regular sound through our house at volume ten when papa – persistent as he is – makes an attempt to spare me. Also at night. If her hug is missing, her blanket is loose, she has to pee or is afraid of a monster, then I’m the loser.

Look, for my boyfriend it’s obviously not nice that she always runs to me when she wants comfort, no matter the situation. I understand that too. She then definitely only wants a comfort hug from mom, while he also wants to hold her in his arms from time to time. But he won’t deny that it actually suits him if our girl roaring from her bed demands that I accompany her on her umpteenth visit to the bathroom, so that he can continue to binge his favorite Netflix series.

Time for myself

I especially notice that I am slowly but surely becoming slightly ill and reacting more and more irritated. In any case, my daughter doesn’t care less about whining or hanging on my legs. And that is why I am now here, in the Austrian Alps, having time for myself.

Time for Elly, time for me, myself and I. Not being a mom for a while, no screaming toddler around me, a moment all alone. I’ve been imagining it lately. Then I saw myself lying in the warm sun in a flowery alpine meadow, with such straw in my mouth, feet in a babbling brook and only the sound of tinkling cow bells and buzzing bees around me. But also nice walking at my own pace, without lingering discussions with a compelling toddler who claims to be tired after only five steps and wants to be lifted. And not even thinking about home. But that doesn’t quite work.

Get the party started

It’s three o’clock in the morning when my adventure begins. The street is quiet. I get into the car and turn the key. The engine starts and at the same time the radio comes to life. ‘Potatoes with chocolate, beans with vanilla custard, ice cream with cheese fondue, strawberries with gravy’, it sounds a little too loud from the speakers. Startled, I turn the volume knob. Although Monique Smit can normally count on my sympathy – after all, she has calmed the young lady quite a few times with her repertoire – I can’t listen to this song right now. I scroll through my playlist and see P!nk. Perfect. I’m driving down the street while I’m hard Get the party started sing along. 978 kilometers to go. What a glory.

I feel like Julia from Heleen van Royen’s book The escape. Like them, I now drive far away from home without a child and a partner, all alone and with my thoughts – not my daughter’s, what a luxury. But the difference is that the home front is exactly aware of the destination of my trip. Besides, I don’t plan on getting into bed with two German dwarfs, or anyone else for that matter – but that aside. How nice, I keep thinking, that I don’t have to worry about whether my girl is still having fun and that I don’t have to squeeze into impossible positions to fish a fallen care bear from under the front seat.

letting go of motherhood

Me-time is really great fun, I already notice on the German autobahn. I’m having some trouble letting go of motherhood. My mommy antenna is clearly plugged in. I can barely stop myself from yelling loud ‘echo’ as I drive into the tunnel – a quality I’ve learned over the years and usually appreciated from the back seat. I peek back for a moment. No, she’s really not there. The car seat is empty.

So it’s certainly not the case that I completely get her out of my head, now that I’m on my own here. During dinner at the hotel I scan the menu for the children’s menu. And if I see a trampoline in the garden under my balcony, you can probably guess who I’m thinking of.

at every hut I check the condition of the playground equipment before I take a bite of my kaiserschmarrn take. I always feel relief – when I realize that I can now just go about my own way, without taking into account my little tyrant. And then immediately afterward, the accompanying feeling of guilt sets in. That’s a bit of a shame.

Also read: ‘Going on holiday without a husband and children: I can recommend it to everyone’

Homesickness

But after a day or two, something changes. Instead of reading my book at night, I find myself looking at pictures of my girl on my phone. I proudly show a few of them to my table companion at breakfast the next morning. “How cute”, she responds enthusiastically and I can’t help but agree with her. I feel a lump in my throat. Yes, I miss the home front. Really. What a nice feeling actually.

After a long climb – where I mainly think about my child – I see at the top that my phone has full range. Long live the new telephony laws that make calling and internet within your bundle possible in Europe. A little later I’m video calling my sweethearts. “Mommy, when are you coming home?” she asks. “I miss you very much.” I find it moving. I prefer to get in the car right now, back home, to hold her in my arms.

To upload

I read it everywhere: you cannot pour from an empty glass and a mother who is good to herself is a much better mother to her child. I now believe these wisdoms. It really is; time to myself charges me. I feel like I can take it again. In fact, I can handle anything. That from now on I can handle the sometimes impossible demands of my daughter with ease (“Mom, you have to stop the rain.”) Yes, I’m back. A year, I hope. Then it’s time for me-time again, because I like this.

This story was previously in Kek Mama.

Read the best stories, most recognizable columns and the best tips for you and your kids every month. Subscribe now to Kek Mama and get up to 45% discount.