I love who I am on vacation

Why can't I be her all the time?

Vacation Kate in Rome in 2015. She’s so chill.

I have this thing I do that’s been bothering me lately. Whenever I’m preparing for vacation, I do a lot of shopping. I buy new clothes, stock up on sunscreen, waste hours trying to find a better backpack (should I just design my own?). I can’t resist the temptation to run into my favorite consignment store, convinced the perfect piece — a gamechanger of a dress or the elusive goes-with-everything blazer — is swaying from a hanger, waiting for me. This wave of materialism has always puzzled me, but I think I finally understand what’s at work here.

We leave for vacation next week, which means I spent the last couple of weeks doing other ridiculous things, too. I’ve created a better itinerary than the one the travel agent created for us (I’ve broken the long paragraph into bullet points and added links! It’s a Google Doc I can keep updating!). I’ve covered every flat surface in our home with carry-on size supplies like I’m stockpiling for the end times. I’ve managed to hide most of my crazy, but I’ve sent so many family texts it’s a miracle my children haven’t blocked me. 

At first I thought it was a manifestation of travel anxiety. Some kind of preparation gene I inherited from my perfectionist mother and my father, the U.S. Army officer. A vestigial trait that kept my ancestors from starving or freezing to death but simply leaves me with a swollen Amex statement. But that’s not it.  

And I know I’m not trying to plan a flawless vacation. We’ve traveled as a family of five many times, so my expectations for this trip are very realistic. My expectations for myself, on the other hand, are delusional.

I over-prepare for vacation, I’ve realized, because time away from home gives me a chance to be the person I want to be. The person I thought I’d be. The person who has her shit together. And, I realized as I prepare for a vacation with “kids” who are 23, 20, and 17, the version of me that is still in charge.

Vacation Kate in 2010, taking the kids abroad for the first time.

Vacation Kate, I realize,  is an entirely different person.  And I want to be her.

The version of me that is going on vacation is a minimalist. She has a capsule wardrobe that is as smart and savvy as she is. A capsule wardrobe that fits in a carry-on bag because she’s easy and breezy like that.

Her toiletry bag is equally spare. No amount of influencing or advertising can convince her to buy beauty products that overpromise. She knows what works for her and she confidently sticks to that. She doesn’t fight aging. She embraces it. 

Vacation Kate is an organized person. She’s very similar to two-kid Kate — me before having a third kid and returning to full-time work made me feel like I was always struggling to keep my head above water. Me before I constantly had the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. Me before I woke up at 2:30 am every night, remembering what I had forgotten: a sports physical, a carpool complication, an unrealistic client request I had agreed to. Vacation Kate has thought of everything. She carries compression socks, a mini medicine cabinet, and bought $13 neon pom poms to prevent baggage claim snafus. 

This version of me has kids that listen to her advice because they want to, not because it’s the path of least resistance. They value Vacation Kate’s opinion and respect her experience, knowing that she has their best interests at heart. They realize she probably knows better, so they don’t fight her authority. They recognize that they were never going to do the necessary research, they are grateful she did and — this is the kicker — they express that gratitude verbally.

Vacation Kate sets boundaries at work and has realistic expectations for this newsletter. She doesn’t edit on her day off or make herself available when she already said she wouldn’t be. She deletes Slack and email from her phone and feels zero temptation to check in. She never panics about her return to work. Re-entry will be a snap. 

[Vacation Kate is] at peace with her choices — sartorial and otherwise — and doesn’t waste her time reading reviews about sun hats and compression socks.

This version of me does not startle when the Amazon two-day shipping window closes. She doesn’t waste money on overnight shipping. She doesn’t panic pack, shoving another pair of shoes into her suitcase as she walks out the door. She’s at peace with her choices — sartorial and otherwise — and doesn’t waste her time reading reviews about sun hats and compression socks. She’s too focused on optimizing her life to worry about buying the perfect product. 

When I go on vacation, I’m not just somewhere I’d rather be. I’m someone I’d rather be. These two weeks aren’t just a break from the same old professional and personal responsibilities, they’re a break from being the same old person. Everyone deserves that.