A couple of years ago—though in the world of parenting, that feels like a lifetime—my partner Alex and I had a delightful Sunday tradition. Each week, we’d hire a babysitter to look after our then-3-year-old daughter, Mia, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. This precious window allowed us to enjoy brunch, stroll hand in hand through our Brooklyn neighborhood, toss a Frisbee with our dog, and, most importantly, reconnect after a week filled with the chaos of work and family obligations.
Those three hours felt like the ultimate foreplay, because as soon as the clock struck 1 p.m., we’d bid the babysitter farewell, lay Mia down for her nap, and retreat to our bedroom for hours of intimacy and relaxation. Ah, those were the days—until, of course, the inevitable happened: Mia stopped napping, and our little escape plan fell apart.
Fast forward a few years. Mia is now 5 and in kindergarten at our local public school. Alex and I both work from home as freelancers, trying to maximize productivity before her 2:45 p.m. dismissal. Funds are tight, but we cherish the quality time we get with Mia as long as school is in session. The challenge arises during breaks, especially when summer vacation comes around.
As spring break approached last April, we felt the familiar dread of working parents who can’t afford vacations or babysitters (and all our evening sitters have day jobs). We were bracing ourselves for an entire week with Mia at home. Oh no!
In a desperate attempt to keep her entertained, we scrambled for playdates and new movies on Netflix, when an email from her school popped up. They were offering a spring break camp! Soon, a lively email exchange erupted among the moms in Mia’s class, detailing which days they were choosing. “Sophia’s doing Tuesday Zoo, Bowling Thursday, and Movie Friday!” one mom excitedly wrote. “Jack’s doing those too!” another chimed in. I decided we could splurge on two days.
Mia selected Arts & Crafts Wednesday—a day filled with creative projects (her absolute favorite), a trip to the local playground, and gardening in the school’s fantastic garden (that really sealed the deal for her)—and Bowling Thursday. But by the time I registered, bowling was fully booked. I happily paid $90 for Wednesday, relieved that Mia could enjoy at least one day of fun.
But then it hit me—Alex and I deserved our own fun day too. It was spring break! I told him to clear his schedule and pencil in Foreplay Day Date and Sex Wednesday.
Spring break began, and after two days of Mia at home, we were all eager for camp. Yet when we arrived at her school, things seemed…off. Despite the main entrance being open, there were no signs directing us to the camp or even acknowledging its existence.
Alex chuckled, “Do you think camp is somewhere else?”
“It can’t be,” I replied. A father came down the stairs with his child, equally confused. We banded together and followed distant noises to the cafeteria. There, an unidentified woman handed us a clipboard for signing Mia in, then walked away.
“Shouldn’t there be some kind of counselor?” Alex whispered.
“Maybe one of those people in the back?” I pointed to a handful of adults, seemingly disconnected from the few kids already there.
In front of us were four self-directed activity stations: crayons and paper, sticks and marshmallows, Legos and dolls. I silently prayed: Please let this be just a temporary setup until the real art projects begin and they take the kids outside to garden.
Putting on a brave face, I said, “Mia, look! Crayons and paper! Why don’t you do a little drawing?” She sat down with a lackluster attitude. We hugged her goodbye, and not a single adult noticed when we slipped away.
Once outside, I remarked, “Well, that was totally depressing.”
Alex squeezed my hand. “Mia’s going to be just fine.”
“You do realize anyone could waltz in and kidnap a child in there, and no one would even notice?”
“Honestly, how many hits have we taken for that kid? She can take one for the team. Trust me.”
With that, we left our guilt behind and officially kicked off our day date. We strolled, had breakfast, returned home, popped open the prosecco we’d bought for the occasion, and indulged in some much-needed intimacy.
As with all babysitting or daycare hours, time flew, and soon it was time to pick Mia up. At least this time we knew where to go.
Mia dashed towards us, exclaiming, “Mommy! Daddy!” We enveloped her in a hug. Before leaving, she said her goodbyes to Elly, a friend she’d made while playing with dolls.
Once outside, I eagerly asked, “So, how was it?!”
She dramatically exhaled. “I didn’t really like it so much.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling deflated. “How come?”
“Yeah,” Alex added, “it looks like you made a new friend.”
“Well, we didn’t get to plant, and we didn’t do arts and crafts.”
“Did you at least go to the playground?”
“Yeah,” she replied, unenthusiastically. As we crossed the street, she continued, “You know, it just felt like a really, really long day.”
A wave of post-coital guilt washed over me as I mentally drafted a complaint email requesting a refund. But by dinnertime, Mia had bounced back, and I decided the school, despite today’s hiccup, was still worth the money.
Today marks the first day of Mia’s summer break—eight weeks of freedom. This time, though, she’ll be attending a camp for the entire month of July. It’s her first time, and I’m confident she’ll love it—not only because it’s not in her school’s cafeteria, but because we visited their open house, and it was incredibly cool.
Next April, when spring break rolls around again, Mia will still attend the school camp, but with three key changes:
- I’ll enroll her faster than a hot knife through butter.
- I’ll ensure she only participates on field trip days.
- I’ll buy two bottles of prosecco instead of one.
In the end, parenting is all about balance, and sometimes you just have to seize the day—regardless of the guilt.
Keyphrase: Parenting and Spring Break
Tags: home insemination kit, home insemination syringe, self insemination