OUR FIRST GETAWAY ALONE

By: Kate Cayanni   |   July 8, 2021

They say almost anything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes…even you.

 

After weeks of planning, I was in Tomales Bay with my husband. Tomales Bay is the place I see when I close my eyes and wish I were anywhere else. Tomales Bay is my happy place. These were our first-ever nights away from the kids since becoming parents four years ago. I had daydreamed for weeks about this perfectly quiet, uninterrupted, no questions to answer, no diapers to change, no meals to cook weekend.

 

Upon arrival, I took a bath in a giant soaker tub. It was warm and steamy and lovely. We ordered room service. I was sitting on a sofa, journaling, continuing my pursuit of relaxation and escape from motherhood and all of the obligations and “shoulds.” I just wanted to enjoy this cozy space with my husband. We hadn’t spent time together like this in years and I was finding it strangely difficult to turn off.

 

Despite the bath and the room service, I’d managed to check the kids’ room cameras and see that they got to bed just fine without me. I’d had the internal conversation with myself that this should not hurt my feelings and that it was great that they were sleeping soundly. I’d also texted the nanny, who promptly told me to go enjoy my time. (So yes, difficult to unplug.)

 

Then, the electricity died. It was the kind of lights-out experience where all the whirring stops and the room falls silent. It was so dark that I couldn’t see my fingers in front of my face. Using our iPhones as flashlights, we attempted lighting the woodburning stove, only to discover that the flue was not venting properly and subsequently, our cottage was filled with thick smoke. 

 

We propped windows open with vintage books supplied for decoration, and opened the front door, fanning the smoke out, along with any stored heat and coziness…all in total darkness. 

 

I felt defeated. I set an alarm for 6:30am. Lying in bed, struggling to settle, I drifted to sleep, smelling of campfire. I had the kind of half-sleep that happens when you cannot miss a wake-up time. My kid had to be cleared for school via a web app. Without power, Wi-Fi or cell service, we were unplugged in a way we didn’t expect.

 

We got dressed and drove 25 minutes to town, our phones charging in the car, looking to find cell service to check her in. We grabbed a croissant and a coffee from the bakery in town. It was raining and still not very light outside. My husband drove us back on the very twisty Highway 1 in a car with very firm suspension. Each turn and bump caused hot coffee to drip and splash, scalding my hands. I asked him to pull over, rolled down the window, and poured more than half the coffee onto the roadside. Spilled coffee is the adult equivalent of losing your balloon. 

I was heartsick at how so many parts of this getaway were not meeting expectations. We arrived back at our cottage, still without power, and crawled back into the bed.  

 

My husband rallied first. He met a groundskeeper who told us that PG&E was reporting that the power may be out until 5:00pm. He also said he would fix our fireplace while we were gone for lunch. I was bitter. Bitter for leftovers going bad in the fridge, bitter for the lack of coffee, bitter about not getting to sleep in, which was kind of the point of this whole trip. (God, I miss morning sex!)

 

So I had my internal tantrum. I shed some tears. I got dressed, even put make-up on, and we got in the car to go find some silver linings. I’d recognized by now that there was plenty of time left to salvage this weekend, if I simply eliminated my expectations.

 

We drove to town and found a spot with cold brew coffee and snickerdoodle cookies the size of a plate. We walked through town, stopped in the little bookseller and picked out some new things to read, and we found lunch to bring back to the cottage.  

 

We walked back into our room with a warm fire crackling in the stove, compliments of the staff, and electricity! We ate lunch, plugged in our devices and felt a little lighter. I cleared my inbox of 113 emails, only one of which was of any interest. We rested, took a walk to a garden at the top of the property, and enjoyed a beautiful view of the bay. We took selfies and it felt like vacation. We walked back down and out onto the pier. It was warm and sunny and the water was glittering, and I started remembering the magic of this place.

 

Now, we are back in the cottage, the door open, fire still lit, sunlight pouring in. We’ve ordered room service. I am writing and having a glass of bubbles. My husband is reading and I might go take another bath. It took some serious intervention from Mother Nature, and a self-reckoning of the weight that expectations put on this little getaway, but I am finally unplugged.

 

I am glad that we are staying two nights. Next time maybe we’ll book three. And I’ll leave my expectations at home.

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