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| Bradley House in Folsom, CA |
The idea germinated at Bible study of all places, about two years ago. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" We all watched and listened as the ice breaker question bounced its way around the circle of women, landing momentarily ("the beach with a good book", "in bed all day", "trekking through Europe") before being batted back up and over to the next in line. When it landed on me, I offered up the first thought that came to mind, something about kayaking along the coast of Kauai (because of a failed attempt during our honeymoon due to a very seasick husband).
But even as the words left my mouth, they felt disingenuous. We had just welcomed Ryan into our lives, and I was struggling with this next level in our juggling act. (Still am!) The new school year had just started, which meant Wayne had abandoned me gone back to work, and I was tasked each morning with getting four bodies fed, dressed, and out the door (which sounds so simple and straightforward... except I still have yet to master the learning curve). I had barely made it to the study on time, with the youngest two in tow (or maybe I was very late, which was probably more the case), and as I stood there, baby strapped to my body, rocking and bouncing to keep some semblance of a nap schedule while out and about, I kept thinking after my answer, "KAYAKING?? I absolutely do NOT want to go kayaking right now!" What I wanted to do was hand my baby over to the nursery workers and crawl into that dark space in the corner and take a nap. What I wanted was to be somewhere—ANYWHERE—that was quiet, and where I could be by myself.
And so my fantasy was born. That year, every time I dragged my tired body out of bed to nurse the baby, every time I wiped up one bodily fluid or another, every time I ran through the house—gathering jackets and snacks and children—to get anywhere semi-on time, I fantasized about this quiet place where no one needed me, and I could use the bathroom without little hands slipping me LEGO minifigures or picture books.
Happily, when I confided in Wayne, he was so supportive in helping me actualize my getaway.(Cheaper than therapy.) And that's how I started taking (yearly?) momcations. Last year, I went to the most stunning bed and breakfast in Auburn, called Park Victorian. And this year—just this past summer—I went to The Bradley House in Folsom, CA.
I found the Bradley House by googling "cute bed and breakfast Sacramento area", and this place definitely was that. Built in 1859 in the historic area of Folsom, and then purchased and remodeled in 2015, this house retains its century-old charm but happily incorporates up-to-date amenities and comfort. Mike and Olivia, the owners and innkeepers (also new parents of a not-even-one-year-old and full-time employees of their other day jobs!) are warm and were so fun to talk to. He is your, you know, typical tattooed engineer, Swiss immigrant-turned-innkeeper. She is warm and boisterous and all-American. I think she would have wrapped me up in a bear hug if that weren't so inappropriate for an innkeeper to do. Instead, we chatted for almost an hour about kids, where we grew up, and their aspirations for their bed and breakfast.
During the first day, after I had leisurely finished my coffee out on the wraparound porch outside my room, I walked around the surrounding areas of Historic Folsom, where I was able to catch the tail end of a weekend farmer's market, and then poked around the many vintage and antique shops that line the main street, reveling in the fact that I was able to browse in these stores with lots and lots of small, breakable things! On the second morning, I went out for a run along the American River, pausing at whim to take in the scenery, unhurried in my brisk out-and-back. I ate out by myself and at odd times, on one occasion swapping out dinner for a loaf of really good bread and soft serve. I spent hours reading. I watched TV! (So this is "Tidying Up with Marie Kondo"!) I cleaned not a thing!
In one word, my weekend was self-indulgent, which I feel a twinge of guilt even just typing. But I suppose that this was the goal of my weekend—to simply enjoy some space for myself. Next year, perhaps I'll instill some sort of more structured time of planning and meditation, but for this past momcation, I'm thankful I was able to steal away and hunker down a bit before returning to the home front.
I found the Bradley House by googling "cute bed and breakfast Sacramento area", and this place definitely was that. Built in 1859 in the historic area of Folsom, and then purchased and remodeled in 2015, this house retains its century-old charm but happily incorporates up-to-date amenities and comfort. Mike and Olivia, the owners and innkeepers (also new parents of a not-even-one-year-old and full-time employees of their other day jobs!) are warm and were so fun to talk to. He is your, you know, typical tattooed engineer, Swiss immigrant-turned-innkeeper. She is warm and boisterous and all-American. I think she would have wrapped me up in a bear hug if that weren't so inappropriate for an innkeeper to do. Instead, we chatted for almost an hour about kids, where we grew up, and their aspirations for their bed and breakfast.
During the first day, after I had leisurely finished my coffee out on the wraparound porch outside my room, I walked around the surrounding areas of Historic Folsom, where I was able to catch the tail end of a weekend farmer's market, and then poked around the many vintage and antique shops that line the main street, reveling in the fact that I was able to browse in these stores with lots and lots of small, breakable things! On the second morning, I went out for a run along the American River, pausing at whim to take in the scenery, unhurried in my brisk out-and-back. I ate out by myself and at odd times, on one occasion swapping out dinner for a loaf of really good bread and soft serve. I spent hours reading. I watched TV! (So this is "Tidying Up with Marie Kondo"!) I cleaned not a thing!
In one word, my weekend was self-indulgent, which I feel a twinge of guilt even just typing. But I suppose that this was the goal of my weekend—to simply enjoy some space for myself. Next year, perhaps I'll instill some sort of more structured time of planning and meditation, but for this past momcation, I'm thankful I was able to steal away and hunker down a bit before returning to the home front.
Here's my weekend in a pictorial nutshell:
