Strolling along New York’s Lower East Side with the
squalls of snow embellishing my hair, I felt the utter
euphoria of post-pandemic freedom. I was with my
boyfriend of eight years, we had just attended a ravish-
ingly chic wedding — think gothic blooms, vintage lace
and the bride in Danielle Frankel — and we still had
days to while away in Manhattan, eating and drinking
at every little natural wine spot we found. That same
afternoon, flicking through my Instagram messages (I
moonlight as an influencer with nearly 70,000 follow-
ers) and WhatsApps from friends and family, I was
struck by how many of them said the same thing. Not:
“I hate you, stop having such a bloody good time.”
Instead: “Where are the kids?” “You must miss them so
much,” and/or, “Bet you can’t wait to get back to them.”
I’ve had several moments over the past four years as a
new mother when I’ve felt that my feelings miss the
mark of what is expected, something that can make you
wonder if you’re lacking an instinct in some way. “I’m
sure you wish you didn’t have to go back to work,” for
instance. Or: “Having kids changes everything, doesn’t
it?” Well, neither of the above for me. But it’s travel
away from my children — Grey, four, and Ripley, one —
that has always made me feel most out of emotional
kilter with my fellow mums.
Pretty early into the parenting game my boyfriend and
I decided that if we were going to thrive rather than just
survive as parents we would need some space together
to look forward to. So we came up with the 50:2 ratio —
every six months we would have a week off together,
meaning the children had us for 50 weeks of the year.
Before the pandemic hit we made good on the agree-
ment: there had been a romantic week in Italy and a
10-day adventure in Mexico City. We had plans for New
Orleans. I don’t feel selfish or guilty when I go on holiday
without my kids, I just have a good time. Several of myfriends are the same. “To my relief, I do not find it hard to
leave my children. I don’t feel guilty as we only do it once
or twice a year and they have a wonderful holiday them-
selves with their grandparents when we do,” says the
author and broadcaster Pandora Sykes.
I’d taken my first break abroad without my first baby
when he was 10 weeks old. It had been a traumatic time;
I’d started having daytime blackouts and my mother-in-
law offered to have him for two nights. While I felt a
twinge downloading my boarding pass, I also knew
I needed to take a seriously deep breath, the kind that
only happens on sheets you didn’t launder yourself. My
other half had zero qualms. It turned out my biggest
concern about the short trip across the Channel was
what other people would think.
This is mainly because the model of 21st-century
motherhood — based on an intense interpretation ofCould holidaying without your children be one of the last parenting
taboos? The writer Katherine Ormerod thinks so, given the
response she got when she took a mini-break alone ...
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BAGGAGE?
10 • The Sunday Times Style