“aww, can’t believe it! little remy’s first holiday! have you got him a wee swim suit?” i mean we do but considering he’s not coming and is instead spending the week with his grandparents in rainy old yorkshire, i don’t think he’s going to need it.
yeah that’s right. me and danny, the selfish bastards that we are, flew to barcelona last week without our tiny adorable six month old child, and we fucking loved it. we drank 3€ cocktails in the sun, slept in til 9am (never thought that could feel so wild), and went to cafes that had no pushchair access. in short, we lived like absolute kings.
when i was pregnant, i honest to god didn’t think i would be able to leave remy until he was at least a one year old. any time danny mentioned an event or festival we might go to this year, i interrupted mid-sentence to tell him that actually some of us are going to take this parent thing seriously and really we don’t know what it’s going to be like and we’re probably not going to want to have a night away from remy because we aren’t all monsters, danny.
flash forward to 2 weeks postpartum and i was dreaming about flat warm cider at download festival, cheap hotel beds in sheffield, and of course, a long weekend abroad without our miserable little baby.
now don’t get me wrong, remy is the perfect child. in fact, remy is so perfect that even people who only tune into my social media on a weekly basis are probably pretty sick of me going on about how amazing he is. because did you know that he’s been sleeping 12 hours a night since he was 2 months old? and he’s comfortable and happy with everyone he meets? and he pretty much never cries? did you know those things, did i mention them once or twice?
but even the perfect baby is still, unfortunately, a baby. babies wake up at 6am, they sometimes manage to get poop on their chin, they look at you in horror when you feed them anything other than milk, and try as you might, they aren’t allowed into key club with you at 2am. let’s call a spade a spade, they’re inconvenient as hell.
and so our planned weekend city break escalated into a five day holiday. i wasn’t sorry when i booked it and i’m not sorry now. it was bloody excellent. would recommend to absolutely any and all parents who have the means to do so: have a fucking break. go on holiday! holiday can be a night in a travelodge hotel in a city twenty minutes down the road. it can be a 50% off voucher you found for a cottage in the peak district. or it can be an easyjet flight to stay with your boyfriend’s brother in his central barcelona flat.
all i know is, missing remy was something i didn’t know i needed until i felt it. i love that boy with every fibre of my being, but i think it’s always important to miss someone. it gave me a fresh perspective, it made me appreciate the little things about being a mother, but most importantly it gave me a break, and i needed that break. yeah it was nice to catch up on sleep, and to eat with both hands, and to put on makeup, but above all it was essential in reminding me that i am a person outside of being Remy’s Mum. i laughed, i danced, i drank, i swam, i cried, i ate, i ate, i ate.
we’re already planning next years baby-free holidays and i can’t bloody wait!
thanks 4 reading x