UNSPOKEN SPA RULES

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A spa break isn’t just a time to indulge, it’s a chance for your partner to endure some hell with the kids… isn’t it? 

Spa weekends. These are what stressed-out, worn-out, time-famished mothers like me crave on a daily basis. They rarely happen. Maybe twice a year if I’m lucky. But when they do, I look forward to them like nothing else.

So I’ve been counting down the minutes until this one – staying in a swanky Cotswold spa hotel with a friend. Our two boys (aged three and one) have been running me ragged and it’s time to indulge in some serious head-to-toe pampering…

But, with my great escape fast approaching, the husband has now revealed his plans to take the children away that same weekend. Somewhere equally luxurious. Somewhere by the sea.

A friend, who took pity on him being ‘left abandoned’ with the kids, has asked him to stay with his family at their holiday home in Devon. And we’re not talking dank, dark coastal cottage – think eight bedrooms, roll-top baths, super-sized beds… I know all this because the husband (smug, smug) sent me an e-mail with the subject header, ‘This is where we’re staying!’ and a link to the said beach house.

Now, call me mean and shallow, but there is nothing more annoying than your partner having a fun-filled time with the kids when you’re away. Surely time-out heaven for you should equal time-in hell for him at home left to cope with your (hopefully) unruly and hyperactive children? 

When I come back from a weekend away – refreshed and glowing – I want to find my other half totally frazzled (thanks to Jack’s 3am wake-up calls or Otto’s hourly teething cries) with stale apple rice cakes stuck to his hair, stinking of vomit and smothered in snot. 

I want the children to be the tiny terrors I always get to see, full of tears and tantrums and screaming every chance they get. I want to know that he has endured the crippling exhaustion and utter despair that I feel on a daily basis. 

I want to come back and just be appreciated more. Because, otherwise, what’s the point of going away at all? 

So, let’s just hope he doesn’t enjoy himself too much. After all, no matter how sumptuous his surroundings, he will still be woken in the night by the offspring on tag-team, will still have stinking nappies to change and will still have the kids’ breakfast to make – while I enjoy a lie-in. And then there’s that horribly long journey home and Jack’s bouts of car-sickness…

Plus, nothing can compare to my blissful time lazing about completely alone. Because sometimes it’s not the luxurious surroundings, but just being by yourself that is the ultimate treat.

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Fiona Pennell lives in the Cotswolds with her husband and their two boys, Jack, 6, and Otto, 4. A former YOU magazine sub-editor, Fiona now spends her days being trampled on, going on slug hunts and dreaming of lie-ins. (Twitter: @fiona_pennell)

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