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| The author (not pictured) spends time by herself at home every year while her family goes on vacation without her. Kathrin Ziegler/Getty Images |
Every summer, my two teenage sons pack up the car with my husband and head off for their annual father-son lake trip — a tradition now five years strong. While they spend their days swimming, fishing, eating junk food, and staying up late, I spend my week in an entirely different way: enjoying uninterrupted, guilt-free time for myself.
It all began a few years ago, shortly after the height of the pandemic, when we were all desperate for breathing room after months of virtual school and working from home. I casually suggested they take a getaway without me, imagining a special bonding trip for them and a little solitude for me.
The First Trip: A Mix of Relief and Regret
In that first year, my staying behind wasn’t really about self-care — it was mostly logistics. Our pet sitter was unavailable, and boarding wasn’t an option for our two dogs, a cat, and a parrot.
Still, when they actually drove away, I felt a pit in my stomach. I had pitched the idea as a chance for them to connect without the “default parent” hovering, but when the house fell silent, anxiety crept in.
I coped the only way I knew how: by making a massive three-page to-do list. The list was overambitious, full of cleaning projects and organizational goals, and it made me laugh later — especially since I used to be a Navy spouse who spent months alone at a time when my husband was deployed. Parenthood had made me forget what it felt like to be truly alone in my own space.
I also couldn’t resist meddling in their preparations. I double-checked packing lists, tucked snacks and notes into backpacks, and slipped a small pharmacy’s worth of supplies — Motrin, Band-Aids, antibiotic cream — into my husband’s toiletries bag. He’s a Navy veteran, more than capable of managing a weeklong trip, but he humored me through my first-timer anxiety.
Learning to Let Go
As the years went on, my role in their departure became smaller. By the second or third year, I stopped checking their bags or reminding them about sunscreen and clean socks. My kids had grown into confident teenagers who could plan and pack with their dad — without my input.
This year, I simply stood on the porch and waved as they pulled out of the driveway. No frantic reminders, no guilt, no urge to hover. They know what they’re doing, and I’ve learned to enjoy the quiet that follows.
Why the Trip Matters — For Them and For Me
For my husband and sons, this week is about making memories that are entirely theirs. They come back sunburned and tired, full of stories I wasn’t part of — and I love that. It’s a chapter in their relationship that doesn’t require me, and in a way, my absence makes it better for them.
For me, it’s become a week of complete autonomy. Some years I’ve hosted girls’ nights or invited long-distance friends to visit. Other years, I’ve thrown myself into creative projects I never seem to find time for.
This year, I chose solitude. I binge-watched shows, read two novels, worked on writing projects, and savored the peace of a clean, quiet home. I ate when I felt like it, stayed up as late as I wanted, and started my mornings whenever I pleased. It felt a bit like being a teenager with the house to myself — except I didn’t have to sneak anything.
The Benefits of a Little Space
After five summers, I’ve realized this tradition has been good for all of us. My sons are learning independence and building a strong bond with their father. My husband gets uninterrupted time with them, free from the usual household routine. And I get a rare week to focus entirely on myself — no schedules, no meal plans, no compromises.
I used to see this trip as a sacrifice. Now, I see it as a gift — for my family, and for me. My to-do lists are shorter, my goals for the week are more about joy than chores, and I’ve come to look forward to their departure almost as much as they do.
Next summer, when they load up the car again, I’ll be ready — not with snacks or packing advice, but with my own plans for another week of independence.
