Is It a VACATION…or a TRIP?

Have you ever noticed that traveling with kids isn’t really a vacation? It’s a trip.

The difference, of course, lies in the amount of work required just to make it tolerable. A vacation? That’s where you book the all-inclusive, get on the plane with your earbuds in, and let someone else do the heavy lifting—literally and figuratively. You’re served. You relax. You escape.

A trip, on the other hand, means packing endless snacks, toys, chargers, and “just in case” gear. It means eating at kid-friendly places, skipping the art museum, and instead navigating the sticky chaos of amusement parks. It’s not about what you want to do—it’s about keeping small humans alive and marginally entertained. Reading quietly? Ha! That’s a dream from another life.

But hold onto your hats, people—because in recent years, my best friend and I discovered something magical: the actual vacation. No kids. No partners. Just the two of us.

Our most recent getaway was about a year ago, in the heart of winter. My family had just survived the hurricane that is “the holidays,” endured multiple rounds of minor illnesses (cue the school call: “Someone needs to come pick them up”), and I was officially done with the cold, the dark, and the daily grind. You know… life.

But this vacation? This wasn’t just a break—it was rejuvenating.

We spent a week in Cozumel, just me and my bestie. And we were ridiculous. She surprised me with matching sequined jackets—gold and blue, battery-operated, lit up like Christmas trees. And we wore them. Shamelessly.

We napped. We chatted. We read books. We laid in the sun, watched dolphins from our balcony, and snorkeled on coral reefs—with no kids, no spouses, and no laptops. I wore two sundresses and a couple of swimsuits the whole week. I only wore pants once—because a restaurant asked me to. Otherwise? No pants.

We stayed at an all-inclusive. It was magical. I ate and drank exactly what I wanted, when I wanted, and never had to make a single meal or wash a single dish. There was an infinity pool and a swim-up bar I never even got into—because I don’t love being wet—but I adored looking at the water without a child begging me to jump in.

Best of all? I didn’t think about work. At all.

So what did I learn?

I learned that I’m actually a joyful person, deep down. That when there’s nothing to be anxious about… I’m not anxious. At all. I lost three pounds. I had fewer wrinkles. (It’s a thing! Tropical air + no stress = smoother skin.) I got my nails done and they were AH-MAZE-ING.

Turns out, if I had unlimited time, money, and zero responsibilities, I’d be delightfully happy. Is that real life? Of course not. But it did give me a powerful before-and-after: who I am now, and who I could be with a little more rest and a little less chaos.

So, fellow working parents—whether your work is in an office or within your home—consider giving yourself the gift of a real vacation. The kind that helps you remember who you are when you’re not being everything to everyone.

It just might bring you back to yourself.