I was perched on a teacup stool in an Alice in Wonderland themed dining room, sitting around a huge round table with 20 other women.
No, it wasn’t a fever dream. I was on a hen weekend away in Brighton in May, and this was our Airbnb accommodation.
There was music playing and drinks flowing, then talk inevitably turned to our children – as it always does when a bunch of mums head away for a weekend. We can’t help it.
It was at this moment that one of the mums confessed to me that this was the first time she had left her 3-year-old child, saying how weird it felt.
And then, as she checked her child’s baby monitor from her phone – yep, you can now watch your child sleep even when you are miles away from home – she told me that she was feeling anxious and missing him.
That’s when it hit me: I didn’t feel like that.
By that time, late in the evening, I hadn’t had any contact with my family (other than my husband calling to check he was in the right spot in the playground at school pick up) and I hadn’t been checking in.
I wasn’t desperate for updates on my two children, Ella, 12, and Leo, eight. In fact, I was relaxed and enjoying myself.
And that realisation came with a flicker of something else too; not shame or guilt, but pride. Because I haven’t always been this way.
When I first became a mum 12 years ago, I found it impossible to switch off. I would feel physically uncomfortable if I wasn’t with my baby.
Anxiety was a constant hum in the background. The feeling that something might go wrong if I wasn’t there.
I remember vividly the first time I let my parents take my daughter for a walk in the pram, without me there. She was only a couple of months old, and they had come to stay.
My parents wanted to give me some time for myself, but my anxiety was such that I found myself calling after them, ‘Make sure you properly check before you cross the road!’
Then, when she was two years old, I headed away on my best friend’s hen weekend. It was the first time I had left her for more than a few hours.
So I left a long list of instructions for my husband, then called and texted him often throughout the weekend. I was genuinely worried that both wouldn’t manage without me being there. I couldn’t fully relax.
Of course, nothing bad happened, but I felt that might have been because of my cautions, rather than despite them.
Thankfully, over the years – with time, an extra child in tow and a bit of perspective, that slowly started to change. I came to realise that time away from my children isn’t just good for me, it’s good for them, too.
They get time with trusted adults and I get to reconnect with the parts of myself that aren’t just ‘Mum’. I am still a good mum without being physically present, and actually, I think I am a better one when I have had time and space to breathe.
It has also given my husband confidence to take the lead and know how much of a good dad he really is, that he is capable, and that I trust him with the most important things in our life.
We talk a lot about parental guilt – especially for mums. There’s a weird pressure to miss our kids when we are not with them, but the truth is, the pressure is self-inflicted.
It’s all an unnecessary expectation that we put upon ourselves; that to prove our devotion, we must never step back. But it is, in fact, entirely possible to adore your kids and enjoy some time away from them. Both things can be true.
And that is why, when I was away in Brighton, I permitted myself to switch off. There was no long list of instructions for my husband, no meal planning, and no guilt.
Unfortunately, Mum’s luck meant that I woke up on the first morning ill (not just from the prosecco), feeling rubbish with a bad cold. However, a two-hour line dancing lesson and then having the space to enjoy a 90-minute nap, uninterrupted, on the beach without needing to think about anyone else, was a real tonic.
There’s nothing like a weekend away without your kids. No one interrupts your conversations, no one makes demands on you, and no one has a meltdown because you gave them the wrong cup.
Just two blissful nights of adult conversation, hot food, and – crucially – proper sleep.
Returning home, they had coped just fine. There was no grand, emotional reunion. Just two happy kids, full of chatter about their weekend and wanting the low-down on mine.
The idea that good mums never switch off is not just unhelpful, it’s harmful. We need to model boundaries, self-worth, and emotional regulation – and sometimes that means taking a step back, knowing that our return will be stronger.
So no, I didn’t miss my kids on my weekend away – and that’s OK. I missed sleep and uninterrupted conversation more.
But once I’d had that? I was more than ready to face the organised chaos that is home.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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