Wouldn’t it be cool if there was a camp for moms?
We could sleep in super comfy beds all separated in nice rooms on a beach and there would be plans that included fun stuff like foot massages and book reading and thermal pools and going to garage sales with a wad of cash and a sherpa to carry the booty?
And they would serve us things we like, like pomegranates and popcorn and chocolate and pinot grigio and steak and baked salmon that wasn’t full of pink chemicals for dinner?
Every day someone would ask what we wanted for breakfast and at what time and we could go walk or run or garden in the morning and if we wanted we could bring our dog.
And at night we could dance or swim or eat cake or popcorn… or do artsy stuff we like or buy new shoes.
And shower as often as we wanted and never have someone come in while we were … never mind.
Or we could cook if we wanted to watch other people cook while drinking pinot grigio, or knit or watch men clean the camp kitchen, especially the floor.
Yes, there should be a camp for moms. Because surely there would be a market for it.
And at the end of camp we could go home and love our kiddos again. There should be a camp for that.