THE BABY’S. AND ONLY THE BABY’S.

(You know whose vacation it ISN’T? Yours.)

Dear friends and co-workers who I left behind when I blew the popsicle stand called Toronto for an extended leave to the south because…. screw you, winter.

I do consider myself mighty lucky for having one of those jobs that require a laptop, a phone and a strong coffee, and I take full advantage when I can.

But I beg of you, please do not refer to my time away from home as a “vacation” merely because I’m not cold. I assure you, it’s not even close. For starters, it’s not recreational.

Before I begin and everyone jumps down my throat with the whole – OH WHATEVER! IT’S SO COLD HERE! AT LEAST YOU HAVE THE BEACH! – I totally agree, and that’s why I left… it’s warmer. But that’s about it. *For the record, the shit storms of the north have made it gloomy, chilly, and (don’t feel too bad for me but) pretty miserable too. It’s not Toronto cold – I know, but still. I didn’t come here to wear a sweater.

SO, let me set the record straight. I don’t spend my days laying out like a prima donna in a fancy hotel cabana in West Palm Beach. I’m certainly not sipping pricey margaritas by a pool in South Beach with a Hotel Costes playlist in the background. And I’m sure as FUCK not getting any more rest….

This is an excerpt from the article WHOSE VACATION IS IT ANYWAY? which originally appeared on The Rebel Mama.