I’ve just returned from an adult vacation—I know, poor me. I’m not complaining. I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to travel alone with my person. I realize that this is not a luxury that everyone has, so I very gratefully and very intentionally, soaked all of it up. It was a magical time.
Now, it is time to pay the proverbial piper—let the re-entry commence. I remember when my girlfriend first shared the term “re-entry” I laughed so hard, I cried. I thought it was the most eloquent way to describe the process of returning to your regular life after vacation. You are truly re-entering into a completely different atmosphere. You’ve been in rarefied air and must now return to your earthly duties. I’ve never actually been on a spacecraft, but I have to imagine re-entry is turbulent, so that’s spot-on, as well. You’ve seen a magical place, had an otherworldly experience and now you’re thrust back in to—your normal existence.
I’m not knocking normal existence. My normal is existence is, on the whole, fabulous. I love what I do, I love the people I’m surrounded by and I am a happy gal. But…vacation me, she’s the stuff dreams are made of. Vacation me has no schedule unless it’s to see something beautiful or be on time for a fabulous dinner that someone else prepares, serves and cleans up. Vacation me is responsible to no one, except my traveling partner and he’s good fun, so no real responsibility there. Vacation me wakes when she’s done sleeping, leisurely dresses for any or NONE of the activities she has planned. Maybe she’s strolling through a city or she may be parked on a beach chair—the world is her oyster. Vacation me also has cocktails at every meal because she drives no where and has NOTHING to do—prosecco at 9:00 a.m.?–Don’t mind if I do! Wine with lunch? –Of course! If it makes me sleepy, I’ll just TAKE A NAP! There are no rules for vacation me.
Vacation me is carefree, sleeps soundly, checks in with her people daily and thinks of them fondly. She remembers all of the cute things they did and said thus far in their young lives. She conveniently forgets their constant bickering/messiness/forgetfulness/smart mouths. Their absence has truly made her heart grow fonder. She muses about all of the joy they’ll bring her upon her return, when they behave like new children and never cause her a second of aggravation. Vacation me is an amazing mother and she’s doing a great job.
But, like all good things, vacation me must come to an end. She must return to her loving, well-behaved children and perfectly organized life and resume adulting. So, vacation me begins re-entry.
The initial re-entry is just what she was hoping for. She’s met with sweet, smiling faces that have missed their beloved mother and are so excited she’s returned. This euphoric feeling lasts for approximately two and a half minutes. At around the two minute mark the small people realize that the source of food/answers/clean clothing/conflict resolution has returned and it is ON! Cue the turbulence.
There is generally a report by each child that involves the misdeeds of siblings along with an enumerated list of all of the things that I forgot to do/leave/provide for them while I was away. Then, we move directly into the list of items that they think they need immediately for their very survival. There are so many people talking to me at once. There are no more wonderful people bringing me drinks—it’s all too much!
I try to allow myself time in the re-entry process to reacclimate, but these people are not having it. One or all of them is physically following me around, I can’t seem to shake them no matter how hard I try. So, I breathe deeply and allow myself to remember that they’re amazing and I’ve missed them—that works for about 30 seconds. They’re relentless. They’re requesting outrageous things from me like meals, signatures on school forms, answers to birthday party invitations—my brain is not ready. I am walking around in a daze trying to remember why I’ve returned to this madness.
I loose them for a blessed minute and hide in the bathroom. Here, I am able to take a breath and remember that muscle memory is a real thing and that surely I’ll be able to do this again. I give myself a fantastic pep talk and go out to face my doom—I mean children. I insist on receiving them one at a time, because my brain is just not ready for all of them at once. I have an audience with each of them, start making a list and promptly put everyone to bed—myself included.
The next morning is the real joy. It brings with it the first full day of real life. I’m honestly quite impressed with myself. The fact that I do this on a daily basis is nothing short of miraculous. The amount of things I’m forced to do before 8:00 a.m. and without prosecco is astounding. I manage to get everyone to their places of learning and begin to sift through the rubble.
The problem with re-entry is that it’s so abrupt. You are not gently eased back into all of the things. Also, no one took care of any of the things while you were away, so you essentially have all of things, plus a back-log of things—it’s a lot of things. Add to that equation that your brain is still in vacation mode, and it’s enough to make your head hurt.
Do not be concerned if you find yourself deep in the throws of re-entry for a while. Depending on the length or your absence, it takes several days or weeks to alleviate this pain. You may experience additional symptoms like extreme fatigue, anger or general malaise—this is all totally normal. Eventually, that muscle memory will kick in. You’ll get back in your groove and not even remember the vacation version of yourself. You’ll start operating on all cylinders and be able to listen to and answer more than one child at a time, you’ll have an updated calendar and know what you’re making for dinner. You’ll be back and it will all have been worth it.
Because, vacation you and me; she’s worth it. She’s so much fun. She sees and does the coolest things. She takes time for herself. So, you and I will continue to power through the brutality that is re-entry. We will amaze ourselves each time we return to our regular life. And, we will not judge ourselves too harshly if we still want to drink prosecco in the morning.