Oh, staycation? How could I have questioned you? We now have little stones around our pathway in the backyard. My eldest daughter has a desk in her bedroom. We hung a hummingbird feeder. We became experts in homemade playdough.
But still, we basically had a really, really, really long weekend. I am not sure I captured the art of stay-cationing. I read on many blogs that the art of staycationing is to become a tourist in your hometown.
We still had to wipe kids butts, change diapers, pick up dog poop and clean kitty litter boxes every day. So, we didn’t exactly vacate that reality. But we do live in San Diego. People pay big bucks to visit here. At least that’s what we told ourselves, when we were bone tired at night and our house looked like it had been robbed.
But for the very last night of the week, my husband and I flew the nest– alone, away from the kids – and landed at the fancy, The Lodge at Torrey Pines.
Immediately upon checking into our room, I showered, changed into the terry cloth robe, and smothered myself in lemongrass and sage moisturizer. I love hotel freebies.
People have asked me, did you like the hotel? Before we checked in to the hotel, I could have slept in the back of my minivan from how tired I was.
So, when I said: “I need a break from the kids,” and “I am exhausted from nursing,” I didn’t mean we had to go fancy!
But a staycation does that to a person. So many “why nots?” get tossed around. After all, we didn’t have to pay for a real vacation.
Spending money on a hotel down the street from my house is the baby’s fault. I have been very clear with that.
His ten month old dripping nose, ceaseless coughing and double ear infection is the reason, my husband, in the eighteen hours we were out of the house, went shopping in Del Mar at The Row and bought a belt and sunglasses.
Our eight days of insomnia is the reason we drank two delicious, yet outrageously priced, glasses of white wine at the hotel lounge.
When I woke in the hotel bed in the morning, not to the soundtracks of children coughing, but to the hum of my mini fridge storing my breast milk, I was delighted. Not a soul asked me for anything; it was worth it. Stay-cation, you silly beast. You had me at “hello.”