Family bonding is undeniably crucial, and I hold it in high regard. Yet, with my children now 6 and 7 years old, they have developed a sense of independence. They can confidently order food at restaurants, express their needs regarding temperature, and even retrieve their own sweaters. They choose their outfits for school, articulate their breakfast preferences, and tie their shoelaces. They know where to find extra toilet paper, can read most school notices, and tell time.
These milestones indicated to me that it was time for my husband, Mark, and I to step away from our routine and recharge. Our family life had been blissful, despite living in a region with incredibly affordable daycare (just $7 a day in Canadian currency). Fortunately, my teaching schedule and Mark’s work as a sommelier allowed us to care for our children ourselves.
Every morning, I would rise early to get the kids dressed and fed before dropping them off at school. Mark would pick up our daughter at 10:45 a.m. and our son at 11:30 a.m. for lunch, as we lived nearby. He would prepare their meals from scratch—trained in a high-end French restaurant—and then pick them up again at 3:30 p.m. for their second meal. While he was busy cooking and cleaning, I would handle bath time, homework, and bedtime stories, often tackling chores late at night.
Our children benefited from this arrangement, enjoying quality time with both parents, a shorter school day compared to their peers in after-school care, and two home-cooked meals daily. However, in the midst of all this, where did that leave us? Our interactions had dwindled to a quick kiss in the morning, a brief exchange in the driveway, and late-night conversations filled with exhaustion. Saturdays disappeared into swimming and judo classes, and Sundays became our sole day to connect as a family without obligations.
Mark and I fell deeply in love in our early 30s and quickly started our family, with our children just 15 months apart. Although life has been hectic, our friendship remains strong, our intimacy vibrant, and we generally agree on parenting and household decisions. However, it’s easy to lose sight of each other amidst the chaos. We often see other couples drift apart, and I want to avoid that fate.
To reclaim our connection, we decided to take a three-week trip, leaving the kids with their grandparents, along with ten pages of instructions, contact numbers, and fun surprises for the children. We backpacked through Cuba, embracing spontaneity and adventure without reservations, relying on pantomime due to our limited Spanish. With no cell service and internet only occasionally, we let go of daily distractions.
Sleeping on the beach, indulging in 60-cent pizzas, and sipping 5-cent coffees, we relished our freedom. We explored museums, snorkeled, hiked, and even napped in public parks. While Mark fished, I lost myself in books, and our intimate moments became frequent as stress and fatigue faded away. We not only ventured beyond our home but also stepped out of our comfort zone, navigating language barriers together.
At 40, we embraced the thrill of travel reminiscent of our 20s, enjoying the luxury of time to converse. Although we missed our children and often spoke of them, we also focused on each other.
I draw the line at sacrificing our relationship for the sake of family life. I have no regrets about our choices, as our children have thrived, but I am also aware they will eventually grow up and leave. Showing them a loving relationship—filled with laughter and affection—is the best legacy I can provide. I want them to aspire to the same kind of family life and partnership that I cherish.
In summary, nurturing our relationship while raising children is vital for our family’s health. Balancing both worlds leads to a harmonious household where love and connection flourish.
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