That’s not to say that I want to go back to my teen years or childhood. That wasn’t any good. And I’m not ready to check out yet. But I would like a break.
Is that too much to ask? Is it even possible? Is it really possible to take a break from being an adult?
Not really. Especially if you have kids. You can’t go offline. It’s just not a thing. You’re constantly on call.
And even if you want to go on vacation, going on vacation is work all on its own. All prep. More-so if you have kids and food restrictions and chronic/mental illnesses. And it’s expensive.
I just want a break. I just want someone else to take over for a week where I don’t have to make phone calls or meals or shop or pay bills or talk to insurance companies or clean or do laundry or dishes and I don’t have to be responsible for anyone else.
And decisions! I don’t want to make any decisions. Not about anything. And I don’t want to second guess every decision that I make.
Come on, it’s 2022! Can’t we figure out a way to do this already? Don’t we have a machine that can do this for us?
I want a real vacation for grown-ups where a surrogate can take over and take good care of my kiddo and make all of my decisions for me and pay for everything so I don’t have to.
I want a week where I don’t have to think about money and my health and whether I’m being a good parent.
An entire week where I can swim and beach and stay in the sun all day without sunscreen and UV clothing and an umbrella and worrying about causing a Lupus flare.
Where I can eat everything gluten and dairy-full without my body revolting. Real garlic bread that would give me breath to keep the vampires away for weeks. Creamy, dreamy fettuccini alfredo. Five cheese ravioli smothered in garlicky marinara and fresh parmesan. Thick, chewy pizza (not like that thin, crackly sad excuse for a gluten free pizza) that’s dripping with real, melty, greasy mozzarella. Ooey, gooey, oozy macaroni and cheese with so much sharp cheddar sauce in it that you almost can’t find the noodles. And cheesecake. FUCK what I wouldn’t give for a real piece of cheesecake again. The gluten free, dairy free stuff is not cheesecake. It’s just sad. Sad. Fake. Food.
And vodka. I would love a Cape Cod or a fucking martini and to not have to worry about it interacting with my meds or causing the inflammation to kick up in my body.
And I want to stay up all night dancing and drinking and laughing and having fun with friends and not having to worry about the sickness and pain that will come in the morning because for an entire week, it won’t.
Oooh, and sleeping in! I want that. I want to sleep past 6AM. A whole week of my body just letting me sleep and not waking me up before the sun comes up or throughout the night or not letting me go to sleep at all when I really want to.
And I want to start the morning with a cup of real coffee with caffeine in it and everything. With real heavy cream and vanilla and sugar.
And while I’m wishing away my morning, no meds! An entire week with no meds and no complications or side effects and no mental health crises from not taking meds of course. That one goes without saying, right?
For real. I don’t want to adult anymore. It fucking sucks.
Let me know in the comments what would you do if you had a entire week long vacation from adulting. We can dream.
Hi Vickee. This was such a relatable piece about a kind of fantasy that I bet swells up in most adults with more regularity than any of us would care to admit. As usual, your writing kept the reader close, as you honestly and openly, without any sort of self-curation, spoke with engaging details about your dreamy escape.
And yes, I certainly have had many moments in my life when my soul yearned to inhabit a kinder and easier world, free of all the endless chores, the ongoing need for interpersonal negotiation, and the constant need for deferred gratification. I used to wish when my oldest son was in middle and early high school that he would rise up and away in a helium balloon to an ethereal half-way house with very earth-based boundaries and more effective direction than I or the school or anybody else seemed to be capable of providing.
And I dream about freely indulging my desire for delectable foods, one of the themes you wrote so vividly about. I'd like to eat on a near daily basis Chocolate Gooey Brownie ice cream from Salt and Straw, dine several nights a week at El Pambiche and luxuriate in dishes like Pescado con Coco, desserts like Tres Leches cake, and beverages like Café Cubano. I'd like to be able to eat four slices of Alligator Pie at Pizza Schmizza on Friday nights, as I used to do back in the day, and not gain a pound for each slice.
I'm getting hungry just writing this!
Anyway, thanks for another writing treat.
Be well,
Glen