If you give a mom a camping trip

she's gonna need a minute

I want to be one of those people who return from a weekend camping trip refreshed. I want the calm I felt in nature to linger like the memory of warm breeze on my skin, the ring of caked dirt around my ankles, and campfire smell in my hair. I want the first post-camp shower to baptize me fresh and rejuvenated.

As I rinse off the camp sweat and grime, the familiar nag of never satisfied OCD returns. What to-dos have I left undone while the kids howled at the moon in a coyote conga line, nibs of sticky s’mores clinging to the corners of their mouths?

And in the next breath:

Can’t I just be grateful?

Ah, here we are back to the self-criticism. Mad at myself for not feeling the proper feelings. For not being appropriately refreshed or thankful or ready for the week ahead.

As if feelings can be predicted or constructed or tamed.

As if a moment of overwhelm and creeping dread cancels out the memories I made with kids and friends.

As if taking time to rest is only worth it if you feel, well, rested.

***

“Don’t take them out,” I tell my well-meaning husband who has planned a tidepool excursion for the three of them upon our return.

I can see my kids’ need for rest, how they’re both vibrating at the edge of a meltdown and a hearty dose of screentime would work wonders. With them, I intuitively know that screentime now will not cancel out their days of waking to birdsong and collecting pinecones.

They’re allowed to decompress from vacation. To not be refreshed and recharged. Why don’t I offer that same understanding to myself?

***

I’ll leave you (and me) with this beautiful image that Lindsey shared last week:

One of my favorite images of self-compassion is holding yourself on your own lap. Like holding a kid who is upset until the hard feelings pass. Imagining myself large and compassionate enough to hold all the parts of me that are sad, irritated, unhappy, ragey, etc. just really works for me. I try to practice it at night when I’m sitting in my kids room as they fall asleep. Extending the same gentleness to myself that I TRY to offer my kids each day has been a huge shift for me.

I can hear the kids asking for snacks and watching Peppa Pig in the other room. I’m compassionate enough to let them zone out after a wild weekend. I’m working to show that same gentleness to myself.

If you need me, I’ll be napping or zoning out on my phone for the next few hours.