I didn’t think moms needed to enjoy the holidays until I did this

A few months before my daughters’ winter break from college, I talked the two of them into coming with me. We live near Boston and most of the time they prefer to stay home when not going to school. But this year I dug in and decided we were heading south.

Their reaction was a role reversal. For years I was the one who was hesitant to make a commitment vacation. The pressure of choosing the perfect destination, organizing the trip, packing and planning activities was overwhelming.

When my girls were little, I kept trips simple and went to places near our home in Cape Cod, like leaf peeping in New Hampshire or a Red Sox game in Boston. They were easy to please and didn’t care where we were going. Of course, I returned home tired, but we all enjoyed the travel experience.

But when they got older pressure to have an unforgettable trip felt monumental. Most of the time, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t make both of my teenage girls happy. My uncontrollable frustration often ruined the vacation atmosphere—sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for an entire day.

But this vacation was different. In the background divorceI changed my approach to navigating life. I realized that being the main person in everything was hurtful to me and, frankly, not fun to be around. So, I passed on the responsibility of having a “good” vacation to my children.

First, I offered them three destinations to choose from and asked them to choose between a hotel and rental housing. Once they had arranged an easy flight to Florida and a hotel, I told them to look for restaurants and activities.

Although they were technically in charge, I couldn’t resist writing to them a few weeks before the trip: “Let’s make a playlist!” Our topic was full of Taylor Swift songs, as well as artists that surprised me. “Something from The Cranberry,” 19-year-old Emily wrote to me. “The same Cranberry I listened to my freshman year of college?” I asked. “Yeah!” she said.

On the day of departure, my 21-year-old Isabelle drove us to the airport. Instead of worrying about the TSA throwing me in jail for too many ounces of sunscreen, I sat in the backseat drinking coffee and scrolling through social media. So what is real relaxation? I thought. I need more rest.

My daughters took turns discussing details of the trip that always made me anxious. One took a photo of our parking lot; the remaining items in our luggage were redistributed through TSA. They walked to our gate and pointed to my seat on the plane. Why didn’t I put them in charge years ago?

When we arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon, I was nervous that the cramped quarters would cause some disappointment, but that was not the case. Emily slept on the pull-out couch, and Isabelle and I slept in the same bed. They understood that due to the divorce I was on a tight budget. We went to restaurants instead of booking a ride. Walking and sleeping in the same room made for some of the best conversations of the trip.

As I lay in bed at night, I wondered how I would have missed these ordinary yet extraordinary moments if I had not stepped out of my comfort zone and relinquished control of the ride. I remembered a vacation I spent three steps ahead, unwilling to relax for fear that something would not go as planned.

Perhaps it was my “normal” holiday behavior that was the reason they chose to stay home. Perhaps it was I who made the holiday unpleasant. Ironic, right?

My daughters didn’t care then or now whether everything was perfect. They just wanted to relax with their mother, who allowed herself to have fun. To tell you the truth, before this vacation I thought that the holidays could not be enjoyable for me. I was a mother. Can moms have fun during the holidays? Now I know: they do If they prioritize their own experiences as well as those of others.