Vacationing with a young child comes with challenges, but the opportunities for deep connection are worth it.
Courtesy of Maslina Resort
“Maaaamaaa!
My son, Kweli, screamed as a baby donkey named Matilda bit his big toe.
The pool at Maslina Resort, on the island of Hvar, in Croatia.Credit:Courtesy of Maslina Resort
I immediately booked a five-day escape to help us decompress.
Our adventure had begun with a jolt, even before the encounter with Matilda.
Courtesy of Anja Mutic
Somewhat ironically, our first order of business was spending some time apart.
From left: The author and her son, Kweli, at Tvrdalj Castle, in the town of Stari Grad; Kweli pets a donkey at a farm on Hvar.Courtesy of Anja Mutic
You may be neglecting yourself.
The observation felt spot-on.
I left the sliding glass doors open and the soft curtains billowed in the sea breeze.
From left: A view of Maslinica Bay from one of the resortâs pool suites; family suites at Maslina include spacious courtyards.Kate Sevo/Courtesy of Maslina Resort
But even after my heart slowed, something else kept me awake.
Guilt is motherhoods middle name.
We were safe and spoiled, just as millions around the world were living without food and shelter.
For a single parent, the one-on-one dynamic adds to the intensity of the experience.
Your child looks to you for approval and a sense of safety.
In a dual-parent setting, that responsibility plays out like a game of ping-pong.
In our family unit, its just me and the pressure doesnt dissipate when were on the road.
At Maslina, my son had befriended another boy, who was with his mother and father.
The next morning, a tiny thorn got wedged into the sole of my sons foot.
In theory, it shouldve been an easy fix I simply had to pull it out with tweezers.
(So much for consistent parenting.)
We went to Maslinas pebble beach for a stroll along the bay and a swim in the clear sea.
My son loved splashing in the water, which was atypically nippy for late September; I did not.
But we bonded nonetheless, both squealing when we felt the seawater hit our skin.
We gorged on lavender ice cream from a patisserie along the seafront.
On our last afternoon, we toured Maslinas organic garden.
My son planted begonias and basil.
We had a taste of supersweet stevia leaf and learned about plans for the gardens growth.
Kweli had quickly forgotten the brief blowups, both mine and Matildas.
Panic attacks, donkey bites, and mommy meltdowns aside, it was exactly the reset we needed.
