Vacation-less Vacation

Not quite under the buzzer tonight, although I expected it to be. It was a busy, busy day, and we were gone most of it. It made sneaking off to blog less than easy.

I’m finding vacation less than relaxing this time. It’s been that way ever since PJ was born, but this is the first I really noticed the problem. Before, I would visit my parents or siblings or friends for vacation and basically chill. I might help fix dinner once or twice and do little chores around the house just to help out, but I wasn’t required to do much of anything. By the end of the trip, I would be relaxed and caught up on sleep and social time with the family.

Now with PJ around, I can’t escape my responsibilities. His grandma might grab him to change a diaper here or there and attempt to feed him or change his clothes or bathe him, but those randomly-timed helps don’t alleviate me of responsibility altogether. As soon as he gets fussy or squirmy, he’s handed right back over to me. He’s my problem again. As long as he’s well-behaved and sweet, somebody else will “take him off my hands.”

When we got home from our big outing of the day, I was utterly exhausted, both from the outing itself and dealing with PJ while we were out. I had some help at least, but I was still drained. Then I immediately had to feed him and entertain him while everyone else ate. I somehow managed to swallow some food at some point too, but he didn’t make it easy.

The worst part is when his grandma wants to help but won’t pause to listen to what I tell her about how she might help best. I end up doing all the work myself and sometimes even redoing what she’s done. During our dinner this evening, she offered to watch PJ while I put my aching feet up and relaxed. Yet something repeatedly distracted her, and I ended up dropping my pizza numerous times to rescue him from getting trapped under the couch or coffee table, or from crawling into the fireplace. It took everything I had not to show my irritation. The only thing worse than not being able to escape the responsibilities of motherhood from time to time is being convinced that you can, right now, only to drop everything when you realize that’s not possible.

I hate that I ended up writing such a downer of a post, but it’s what’s on my mind tonight. I love my parents and my in-laws, and I wouldn’t dare keep my son from getting to know them. Nor would I dare mention how much of a hindrance they can be sometimes. I know they want to help, and I try to convince myself that all the extra work they eventually create is worth the relationship I have with them and PJ will have with them. It’s just that some nights the convincing doesn’t quite take.


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