Taking it Out of Mother Mode

Sometimes I feel like I have gears, like a car.  Usually i’m in MMMother Mode, every moment.

My definition of Mother Mode is when you are thinking of the children first and then you somehow figure your life in there somewhere.  AKA also known as the Dad Syndrome.

I found the hardest thing about being on vacation, was moving gears from Mother Mode to just ME mode.  It’s feels uncomfortable to take time for myself.  I am usually getting kids ready for school in the mornings, before myself.  Packing lunches for the kids, not myself, everything for the kids first, me sometime after.  I am usually happy that I am somewhat coordinated when dressing for work. Black & White. Hello.

Without the kids, I realized that MM also means Hyperspeed and that I can put on my makeup in 5 minutes flat and this was trying to apply the makeup in a leisurely fashion too.  I also noticed that I wasn’t resentful to The Man, for just getting himself ready and not helping me.  There was no one to help me with cause let’s face it, if he does help me, then well, you know. Heh.

It’s like an eternity ago six years when I could remember being so calm, relaxed, and actually happy with how I put myself together.  I could take the time.

In Vegas, I tried to rediscover the Art of the Browsing while shopping.  That age old art I had once perfected in my ’20s.

In Mother Mode shopping, you either have a limited amount of child-free time to buy something, before you must rush off to get a parking spot for school pick-up or your next child activity.  Or if you have children with you, you have a limited amount of time before the meltdowns, escapee/take-offs, and sibling- bored fighting time starts.  I now have the clothes changing prowess that any SuperModel would envy or could ever hope for, too bad my name is Naomi Jesson and not Naomi Campbell.

Again I was still stuck in MM mode for shopping in Vegas.  I bought the new It Can Change Into 5 wearing Positions bra at the lingerie store instead of It Can Bump Your Bust Size up Two, bra.  As I envisioned leaning over a candle-lit kid’s birthday cake, boobs literally on fire like Mrs. Doubtfire, and not being able to notice it.  Really, who would I be fooling, there’s no secret in that department for The Man.  For once though, I was happy with the girls.  I got sized, tried on the samples, selected my style and colours, and was out of there in 15 minutes.

After 5 days, four nights, a couple of days of poolside cocktails later, I finally let the woman in me release the mom in me.  I truly wouldn’t want to put it in R: Reverse and think I was living the child-free life again, but I definitely thinks it’s healthy to stick it in N: Neutral and let the woman battery recharge again.

Do you have trouble vacationing away from the kids?  How long does it take for you to realize that the kids are not there?  





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