Rob was on vacation last week, and Westley and I are finally getting back to our normal-ish routine(-ish). It took me a few days to get used to having Rob at home 24/7 and I found myself suddenly extra-stressed about stupid stuff like grocery shopping and making sure lunch was ready when everyone's stomach clocks went off. Ultimately, we ended up having some really good, solid time together as a family (Westley recommends the Pacific Science Center as a place to practice cruising), and Rob and I even managed to sneak in a kick-ass date (Liz Phair at the Showbox. Mini review: the shock-value may be gone, but Exile in Guyville is still damn good 15 years after the fact.) But I still felt a little left out.
I was interested to realize how profoundly my relationship to "vacation" has changed since Westley was born. Before his vacation, Rob got his boss to okay the time and when the start date rolled around, that was that. His primary responsibility effectively disappeared for a week. I tried to imagine what I would have to do to make my primary responsibility "disappear" for a week. Obviously, I'd have to make arrangements for someone to take care of Westley, and I would want to make sure the freezer was stocked with frozen milk, because although he eats all manner of table food, the boy still loves him some good mama milk. And that, ultimately, would mean lots of pumping both before and during my imaginary (unlikely) baby-less week.
It's strange to think about the elaborate support system that I'd have to put in place to take time off from my "job." Truthfully, not being responsible for Westley for an entire week sounds kind of miserable. Even when we've had the shittiest of shitty days together, I can still bring myself to miss him when I get in bed and he's in his crib in the other room instead of being all warm next to me, breathing his milky breath in my face. If I were away from Westley for a week, I'd probably drive myself crazy thinking about him and wondering what he was doing.
I guess, then, that what I'm feeling left out of is not the vacation itself, but the ease of arranging it. I just want support system-free time-off planning. Crazy, I know. But sometimes it's all about just having the stupid cake, whether or not you actually want to eat it. Because your husband has cake and doesn't even have to think about it.