Luck was a Lady (or, Greetings from the Comfort Inn)

Tom and I decided that, instead of gifts this year, we would have a great date. So we dropped Gavin at Day Care and headed for the Mohegan Sun casino.

We are unaccustomed to being alone together, with unscheduled, uninterrupted time stretched out before us. We needn’t have worried--we eased into it just fine. First some Peppermint Mocha coffee from Starbucks, then a long stroll, people watching, and perusing our potential lunch menus. A half-hour before Tuscany opened, we climbed to the Martini Bar under the twinkling blue planetarium ceiling. Green Apple under the stars for me, Anti-Freeze for Tom. His was mellow, mine tart. We sat in velvet chairs and gazed down on the gambling populace.

Loosened by the martinis and influenced not so subliminally by the cha-ching of the machines, we decided to gamble, just some quarter machines before lunch. We won over $600 and, better yet, we managed to walk away with it. Could things get any better?

Yes.

After a side splitting Italian lunch we walked some more, then had some romantic time alone. Time passed wonderfully slowly, and we got back into normal life at a leisurely pace. We ran some errands before going to get Gavin. Sometime during the errands Tom suggested that I put some winnings into a W and R (writing and relaxation) evening away.

Why did I protest? Guilt, I guess. It was so spontaneous, and I felt like I was abandoning the family. Was it right to lounge around while Tom stayed home with the demands of the daily grind? Tom watched my smile spread wider each time he suggested and I demurred. He helped me heave my guilt aside, and I checked into the local Comfort Inn.

I couldn’t even think about writing. Relaxation came first—snacks in bed, back to back episodes of Law and Order. A long bath. A good, heavy sleep. Room service this morning.

I needed this desperately. Even with a carefully paced approach, the stress of the past 2 weeks had taken its toll. I accepted a job offer and resigned from my current job in the midst of Christmas preparations. Tom and Gavin were sick 2 days before Christmas. Just barely recovered, we cooked the ham and celebrated with my family, rested a day, and drove to Long Island to see Tom’s family. My sister’s clan is coming from Vermont today (but I have until check out to luxuriate!).

In reading back my last paragraph, I see so many blessings intermingled with the To Do Merry Go Round of the Christmas season. Tom and Gavin recovered in the nick of time. Our dinner with my family and our drive to New York yielded good company and generous gifts. My new job is much closer to home (my 3-mile commute buys back an hour of time each day!), and I expect it to be more stimulating, less stifling.

One of the lessons I seem to need repeatedly is that even good activity, good transition, can lead to stress. All of these abundant moments still required long task lists, back up plans, and lots of caffeine. I seem to scold myself when I register the dizzying effects of the Merry Go Round, rather than just accepting that this is what happens when you spin.

I also judge myself for being someone who wilts rapidly without down time. I see others who seem to go, go, go, cheerful almost always, despite never pausing for breath. I am not one of those people. Without a pause I feel withered. When my thoughts become increasingly resentful, it is my sign that I need at least a small break. A long walk, a night in a café with my laptop, an overnight at the Comfort Inn. Then all is right with the world again. My well is filled, and I have seemingly boundless energy for even the most undesirable tasks.

I have made the traditional American resolution of joining Curves and finally losing my extra pounds. But I have added something more personal to my list for 2006: I will stop faulting myself for needing these breaks.

When I worked as a therapist, I would say to my patients, “Suppose you had a friend in your situation. What advice would you give them?” Now that I am a parent, I think a lot about what is good for Gavin. I tweak my old technique and ponder what I would recommend to Gavin, if he were living a hectic life with many competing demands. I would say, “Be kind to yourself. Take a break. Take a breath. Forgive yourself for imperfections. Eschew guilt, for it will devour you.”

Taking my own advice, the same advice I may someday give to my son, I am finishing my hotel stay with toenail polish and the morning talk shows. What a blessing to start the New Year hopeful and rested. I wish the same for all of my readers.