WAHM: The One For Whom Vacation Means Getting Off the Couch

My funny Valentine

Continuing the flow of getting old Inside Outs from the newspaper up on here! Enjoy one from February!

I had two glorious days last week. Twice on weekdays, I woke in the morning, showered, then put on real clothes.

Confused yet?

By real clothes I mean a pair of jeans, a sweater that could pass as preppy casual and a pair of sneakers. Only in the world of the works-from-home does this pass as “fashionista,” but there it was, a real honest-to-goodness outfit.

For a woman whose major move in the morning is from the bed to the bathroom and straight to the couch, to turn on the laptop and begin typing up a storm, this is Yao Ming big. Justin Bieber big. Mt. Kilimanjaro big.

This much activity, and I could have settled on the couch with the TV remote and been a happy woman, content in the knowledge that, yes, it’s true, I can look human! But when you’re looking that fancy, you know you can’t keep it all to yourself.

While my sweatpants and hoodie cowered in the corner of my bedroom wandering what they’d done to make me abandon them so quickly, I added a coat, grabbed my keys and walked straight out the door and up the road to the Village Market for a bag of freshmade bagel chips. No Pop Tart on the couch for me. Real food, prepared by someone else, crumbs dropping not on my front but on the ground. And then it was off to Liberty to pick up my husband’s Valentine’s Day gift (then home to install it — what’s a gift if the guy has to put it together?), later to my kid’s school to finally do something most working mothers only dream about: help hand out cups of juice and cookies at her class party.

By that night I was walking on air, the fresh stuff I’d gulped in in big breaths standing outside. Yes, outside! A place I regularly venture only to grab the kid off the school bus, scurrying home as quick as my car can carry me to hop back on my computer and finish up my work for the day.

But these little bursts of real air didn’t have to tide me over because a second vacation day beckoned, a day out to lunch with one of my best friends from high school. We ventured – get this- all the way to Liberty for lunch at Yiasou.

Liberty. Twice. In one week! Squeeeee.

You’re shaking your head, aren’t you? Penning a note to yourself to seek a doctor’s help if you ever become “kid in a candy store excited” about getting dressed and two trips to . . . Liberty?

This is the life of the work at home. Most of the world counts down their working hours until a vacation day, when they plan to stay in their pajamas until 5 p.m., most of that time on the couch with a TV remote in hand. They may then take a shower, but only to spend an inordinate amount of time under the water just to prove they can. They’ll get out, to put back on those same pajamas and head back for the couch.

Just give me a pair of jeans and a trip out of the house, and Jimmy Buffett starts playing in my head.

Now that’s a vacation.


  1. Hee hee. I so understand.

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