Have you ever seen the Bluey episode called “Relax”? The Heelers are on vacation, and instead of running to the sunny beach, the kids want to play in the bathtub. Bless Bandit—he tells Chilli to just go to the beach by herself. So she does. Hat on, sunscreen applied, ocean sounds in her ears, sun on her skin. Perfect, right?

Then a bug flies by.

I felt that moment deep in my soul last weekend when I was gifted—gifted—with two hours to myself. Every mother’s dream, right?

You’d think.

I wasn’t at home, so the usual productive mom-mode wasn’t an option. Sure, I could’ve cleaned the outdoor shower or swept out the beach shed. But the mom in me thought: better to wait until the kids are around so I can draft them into “helping”—cue a hose fight, a trampled flowerbed, and me yelling. A core memory for all.

I thought about going to the beach, but neighbors said it was only warm when the sun was out, otherwise chilly. I love the beach—and I love being bundled up on it—but that particular scenario wasn’t calling me.

So I opted for the backyard. I lay on the lounge chair, angled myself toward the sun, and queued up some ambient music on my iPhone (did you know your phone can basically become a spa? Pump-up playlist? Check. Piano music to chill to? Check).

My body relaxed. But my brain?  Wouldn’t.  Shut.  Off.  

The Chaos Inside My Brain:

• “I probably have a solid hour and a half before they get back. I can lie here for an hour and then be ready when they return…”
  
• “Why did my sister and brother-in-law walk 1.8 miles up the boardwalk to that one mini-golf spot? That’s 3.6 miles round trip, plus ambling through the course. Do they really love walking that much?”
  
• “What is Mom doing inside? I thought she was resting her knee. Why is she on a step stool? What is she getting?”
  
• “Maybe she’ll come out and talk to me when she’s done.”
  
• “I need to ask the admissions associate about the school social—do I have to re-register to give them the right t-shirt size for my daughter?”
  
• “I have to remember to pack my son’s slides from home so they can live here for the summer…”
  

Did I lose you there? Did your mind wander? Start thinking about your own list while your eyes skimmed the page but didn’t really absorb it?

It’s okay. I’m with you.

Ironically, the most relaxing moment of the entire weekend wasn’t during that quiet solo time at all. It came later, during a spontaneous game of ball in the backyard with my kids. I had taken a last-minute day off work just to be with them—no plan, no agenda. Just us, playing and laughing and making memories in the sun.

And sometimes that’s where true relaxation hide—not in the silence, but in the joy. Not in the perfectly planned moment, but in the messy, silly, unstructured ones.

As Maycember comes to a close and the last day of school is in sight, here’s to more of that!