As an 11th year employee of Woodloch, I’ve heard of cases of “Woodloch Withdrawal” before, but I never knew how strenuous it can be to return to “normal life” after visiting us. This article, written by Barbara Cooper, seems to sum up everything quite nicely. Here are some highlights, and the rest of the article is available at Ms. Cooper’s blog. Read for yourself!
We got back from our spectacular family vacation at Woodloch Pines on Sunday and it’s been All Reality, All the Time ever since.
Monday, I came downstairs for breakfast. No one offered me a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Nor my choice of juice and/or sliced fruit. No offers of my choice of those little boxes of cereal or oatmeal. No one perfectly poached my eggs and served them to me with thick-sliced bacon and dry toast–just the way I like it. There were no refills.
No home fries.
No one but me to make the mutually exclusive meals for my daughters. (Note how Ana eats all but the crusts on her toast and Jane eats only the crusts. Jane eats the eggs; Ana eats the bacon.) (Why, yes, I’m totally okay with this dynamic that happens at every single meal every single day. I’m sure after they leave home for college and I have a long rest in the padded room of my choice, this twitch should disappear.)
When I returned to my room, no one had miraculously made my bed and emptied the trash and left me fresh towels.
The morning’s activities consisted of me dragging two surly children to the grocery store and then unloading a van full of groceries by myself. Also? Seven loads of laundry and the deflection of many, many, many requests to go to Michael’s.
At no point did I consider calling the spa and getting a massage.
At no point did I leave the kids at the bumper cars and the indoor jungle gym and go work off my Scandinavian Pancakes in the fitness room.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving and instructed my children not to talk to me until I had eaten something because I couldn’t be trusted to be fair and rational in my response.
Only, there was no waitress to offer me my choice of sandwiches, or seared Ahi Tuna on a bed of greens or something from the bar.
No home fries. (There is a serious lack of home fries around here.)
After I ate my nuked Lean Cuisine (yum), I started on the afternoon’s activity: Namely, finding the horrible toxic smell in my refrigerator. This seemed a far cry from attending a beading class, fishing… playing miniature golf and/or riding bumper boats….
But back to reality: There was no amazing “theme” dinner, complete with parade of costumed characters.
In fact, there was no evening entertainment at all, unless you count the verbal sparring as I tried to get my kids into the bathtub. No fun family activity like horse races or magic shows. (We did, however, have Jane to weigh in with one of her particular talents.)
No one offered to take a family photo of us all dressed up. In fact, oddly enough, no one really dressed for dinner.
I don’t know. At some point it occurred to me that we might MOVE to Woodloch and I could get a job teaching knitting classes –except that I’m really not that great of a knitter so I might not be able to support my family. It’s very tempting because the staff at Woodloch LOVES it there. I can’t tell you how impressed we were by the total commitment of the staff.
On the other hand, at least I control the music at home and hopefully it won’t lead to me having two consecutive dreams about Lionel Richie as happened at Woodloch. Still, small price to pay for the sheer awesomeness that was our family–emphasis on family–vacation.
Have you ever personally gone through this condition? If so, we’d love to hear your stories!
And of course, the only prescription available for this is a visit back… All the fun at Lake Teedyuskung awaits you! Oh, and you’re table is ready :)