Recently, I decided to take some time off work to give my brain a mini reset. I had been going nonstop with client calls, writing deadlines, meetings, and upcoming projects. I needed a break. Just the thought of sleeping in after sunrise, curling up with a book, and long bubble baths with lavender scented candles and chamomile tea was enough for me to clear my schedule for 3 days.

It was supposed to be my peaceful and relaxing staycation. Except it wasn’t.

It was everything but relaxing and about as peaceful as the 5 seconds of driving under a bridge before the down pour of a rainstorm. The quiet morning and fresh cup of Columbian dark roast was  quickly interrupted by the sharp piercing sounds of a hungry toddler and the un-empathetic daily question I get from my hubby, “What are you going to eat for breakfast.” A question that carried no real concern for my well being or empty stomach. It was code for, “What you cooking” or even better, “what you cooking for me” as if he is incapable of preparing his own meal.

Between chasing the baby, changing diapers, and responding to the never ending request of a my “work from home” man,  I quickly realized that maybe I should’ve snuck off to work for my much needed break. At least I could pee in peace between client meetings or sneak away for a quiet lunch if I so pleased.

Home was beautiful and its beauty is because of the chaos my family I create together. Home is unique in its ability to be wherever we are together. I’ve had to quickly accept that though beautiful, home was not quiet nor peaceful. The peace I once knew as a single woman with no children had disappeared at the birth of a family. Peace was no longer here, except for the early morning hours when all are sleeping and I bonded with my thoughts and my notepad over coffee or hot tea. Those peaceful moments were granted to me occasionally and though they are short lived, I adored them.

It made me wonder what an entire day of peace would look like for me. What would I do? Where would I go?  If I removed myself from the responsibilities of mom, future wife, and homemaker, would that make me selfish? Is it taboo to merely daydream of solitude and a temporary escape. Does it mean that I love them any less?

Having a moment to ponder, I refuse to let society’s definition of  family devotion rob me of my strong love and commitment to my family. I am merely saying aloud what many ( if not all) moms are thinking. I love my child and my family more than anything. I would give my life for them without a second thought. However, if I were granted a perfect day it would not include them. Perhaps If I were so lucky to be granted multiple perfect days I would doctor one of those days to share with all of the people I love but if given only one perfect day, I would spend it quietly, with a morning run, a book, a massage, a cute cocktail, and if I am so lucky it would all happen outside with a body of water in front of me and the infinite sound of crashing waves in my ears.

And at the end of my perfectly peaceful day I would go home, kiss my baby, and thank God for the beautiful chaos and unconditional love that lives there.

If you were granted one perfect day, what would it look like?

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