When I relocated to Northern California six years ago, I thought I had found my paradise with its temperate climate, my future husband, and the promise of fine wine at every gathering. What I didn’t expect, however, was the local obsession with outdoor adventures.
I understand the appeal—there are stunning beaches, majestic mountains, serene lakes, and breathtaking parks nearby. But let’s be honest: bugs. And then there are those unpredictable microclimates. One moment, I step outside in a cute skirt and tank top, and just five minutes down the road, I’m shivering in jeans and a windbreaker. How can I possibly enjoy the great outdoors when I can’t even get my wardrobe right?
My family thrives on outdoor activities. My husband is always eager for a long hike and loves camping, while my daughter keeps asking me to take her skiing. I feel guilty for denying her the joy of tumbling on snowy slopes, but the truth is, I can’t stand the cold. I start feeling sick if the temperature drops below 72 degrees. Seriously, I can feel the chill deep in my bones!
The one time I tried to play golf with my husband, I think I got sun poisoning. I can’t swim. I dodge ants like they’re landmines. Honestly, it’s best for everyone if I keep my sensitive self indoors.
Even though I’ve accepted my identity as an indoor mom, it’s not always easy. I hate letting my family down when I have to decline their outdoor plans. It often makes me feel anti-social, especially since many of our friends enjoy outdoor activities. I try to balance saying no with pushing through my discomfort, striving for a healthy equilibrium.
As much as I dislike hiking, I prefer hosting playdates indoors rather than chasing someone else’s child through the woods. I’d much rather invite the kids over, hand them some snacks, and let them watch TV. I don’t mind the noise or mess; as long as I can stay cozy at home, everything is fine.
There are, of course, exceptions. I adore the beach—spending a day lounging on the sand with a good book is my idea of bliss. But even that can be ruined. Last summer in Hawaii, I was enjoying the sun when I spotted a family of sand crabs digging nearby. I didn’t return to the beach for the rest of the trip; I opted for a chair by the pool overlooking the ocean—that was close enough for me.
In the past, my husband and daughter would feel disappointed when I declined outdoor activities. I often felt like the worst mom and wife. I worried that my preference for staying inside would inhibit my daughter from trying new experiences or hinder her from enjoying the same adventures as her friends.
However, as I’ve matured, I’ve come to realize that I make countless sacrifices for my family daily. If I don’t want to swat flies while eating, sleep on the ground in a sleeping bag, or deal with sore feet after trekking through the woods, that’s my prerogative. They can have their adventures without me.
If I neglected to feed my family or refused to participate in anything, then it would be fair to judge me. But I’m simply a woman who knows what she enjoys, and almost everything I love happens to be within the confines of my home. I’m not stopping my family from embarking on snowy ski vacations or rugged camping trips; I’ll just stay home, keeping the couch warm until they return.
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In summary, being an indoor mom means embracing my preferences while supporting my family’s adventurous spirit. I may not participate in outdoor excursions, but I can still create a loving and nurturing environment at home.