The house is quiet. No one is yelling for you. You're not feeding anyone. You're not cleaning up anyone else's mess.
If you're a parent whose children are away at Jewish summer camp, you might be experiencing something profound right now: silence. Real, honest-to-goodness silence. And with that silence might come an unexpected mix of emotions: relief, guilt, loneliness, or perhaps a strange sense of not quite knowing what to do with yourself.
This quiet space isn't just an absence of chaos; it's an opportunity. Your children are off having transformative experiences, building friendships, and connecting with their heritage. Now it's your turn. This is a vacation for you, too.
Without little voices asking "what's for dinner" or frantically trying to find their favorite shirt, you have the luxury of starting your day slowly.
Consider beginning with a personal blessing. Find solace in the fact that there are no alarms, there's no rush, there's just you and the morning light.
You might choose the traditional modeh ani, the gratitude prayer said upon waking, or create your own morning intention. (There are some great ideas in our Rituals for Jewish Joy book). Take a minute to mark this time as sacred and breathe deeply. Acknowledging that these quiet mornings are a gift to be received mindfully.
Take yourself on a silent Shabbat walk. Even if it's a Tuesday afternoon, you can still honor the Shabbat principle of rest and reflection.
Step outside without your phone, without a podcast, without any goal other than being present. Notice how your body feels when your brain is not under a state of constant input. Take deep breaths. Let your mind wander where it wants to go. This is when you're at your most creative. This is when new ideas and solutions come. Let them flow.
Here's something worth celebrating: no one is demanding anything of you right now. No one is demanding you drive them to the store, asking for a snack, or requesting your help with homework. Your body and your mind are entirely your own.
Feel this liberation by doing something active that brings you joy. Maybe that yoga class you never have time for, or a long bike ride, or a run at your own pace. Or go the opposite direction entirely: draw a warm bubble bath, light candles, and soak until your fingers wrinkle. Your body and your brain have been in service to others; now let them be in service to you.
When was the last time you ate a meal where your opinion was the only one that mattered? Or when you got to have a grown-up conversation with just your partner?
Cook a meal just for yourself, or for you and your partner. Make it one that makes you close your eyes and savor each bite. Order from that restaurant your kids don't like. Buy the fancy cheese. Eat ice cream for breakfast if that's what brings you joy. Take a minute to remember what you actually enjoy when you're not accommodating everyone else's preferences. Or reflect on what brought you and your partner together in your pre-kids era. Make a plan to bring those back whenever you get the opportunity.
Turn on the TV and celebrate that you're not sharing the streaming account with anyone else right now. Watch that show with the complex plot that requires actual attention. Listen to music with explicit lyrics. Read a book that isn't about superheroes or friendship drama.
Your cultural consumption has probably been filtered through the lens of appropriateness and family-friendly content for so long that you might have forgotten what you actually like. Now's your chance to find out.
As the days pass in this unexpected quiet, pay attention to what's happening inside you. What part of this silence are you embracing? What aspects of yourself are reemerging after being tucked away in the busy-ness of daily parenting?
Maybe you're remembering that you used to love cooking elaborate meals. Perhaps you're rediscovering your ability to read for hours without interruption. You might be noticing that you actually enjoy your own company—a radical thought for many parents who are rarely alone.
Consider keeping a simple journal during this time. Not for posterity or perfection, but to capture these small revelations about who you are when you're not actively parenting.
The most important question to sit with is this: How can you continue this growth when your kids return?
This isn't about maintaining the same level of solitude (impossible) or feeling guilty about enjoying the break (pointless). Instead, think about which elements of this self-care can be woven into your regular life.
Maybe it's the morning blessing. Perhaps it's a weekly solo walk. It could be protecting one evening a week for a date night with your partner or a solo restaurant trip. Or maybe it's incorporating some of the blessings from our Gratitude Rituals book into your daily life.
The goal isn't to recreate camp-time freedom in regular life, but to remember that caring for yourself isn't selfish—it's essential. Your children are learning independence and joy at camp. You can model the same thing at home.