My husband and I took a cruise in Europe while our kids were at camp. It was unsettling at first not to have parenting duties.

When my husband and I boarded a flight to Europe earlier this summer, we were embarking on our first major trip alone since becoming parents 12 years ago.

I knew it would be an adjustment to travel without our twins. What I hadn’t quite realized was that the hard part happened before we even left home.

A few days earlier, we’d dropped our 12-year-old twins off for a 19-day session at the same Southern California sleepaway camp I attended for 11 summers growing up. I believe deeply in what camp gives kids: independence, resilience, confidence, problem-solving skills, and lifelong friendships. Last year, they went for a five-day mini session. This summer was their first full session, and I knew it would be an important milestone.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how untethered I would feel after saying goodbye.

After we dropped off the kids and their huge duffel bags, my husband and I went out for lunch and ordered beers in the middle of the afternoon — far from something we would otherwise do together in the middle of a workweek. Instead of feeling liberated, I felt strangely lost. The expanse of day ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly with no pickup time on the horizon.

If I wasn’t parenting, who exactly was I supposed to be? As it turned out, that question would become the most meaningful part of our trip.

I’d forgotten what it felt like to travel as just two adults

Before having children, travel was one of the things that bonded my husband and me.

Even after becoming parents, we continued traveling extensively, often taking our twins on ambitious international trips, from Tokyo to Morocco. We’ve always preferred experiences that enrich everyone rather than settle for “kid-friendly” trips that aren’t appealing to us as adults. And I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

But family travel — even wonderful family travel — is fundamentally different. I hardly need to explain this fact to anyone who’s ever tried to do it (or been too daunted to attempt it), but let me paint a picture: You’re shepherding not just your own bag, but all the bags, managing all the hangry feelings and all the jet lag, enduring all the whining and doing your best to accommodate so many diverse preferences (not to mention paying everyone’s way). You’re always on.

By the time we settled into the airport lounge before our overnight flight, martinis in hand, we looked at each other and literally laughed. Nobody needed anything from us. What was this wholly unfamiliar vibe? It was so freeing, it felt almost illegal.

We got to be partners, not just co-parents

Our trip included a nine-night sailing through Northern Europe aboard Crystal Serenity, my first cruise ever, and an ultra-luxurious, totally frictionless experience that made us feel well cared for, rather than serving as the caregivers. (Exhibit A: We had our own dedicated butler.)

Without the constant logistics of parenting, we got dressed up together and went for meals that stretched for hours. I attended niche history lectures where, instead of being the mom, I was the youngest person in the room. We wandered charming European cities at our own pace. I spent extended time in the casino and turned some slot-machine winnings into an entry in the ship’s blackjack tournament… and finished in third place.

The biggest luxury, though, was having nowhere we needed to be except wherever the two of us wanted to go next, together or alone. Over the past 12 years, we’ve become effective partners in raising children. We coordinate schedules, divide responsibilities, and keep the household running with an egalitarian philosophy.

This trip reminded us that we also genuinely enjoyed simply spending time together.

I thought I’d spend three weeks worrying about my kids

I could have stayed home and worried about my kids. Or I could have been on a fabulous European holiday and worried about my kids. The worrying part wouldn’t have changed much.

Fortunately, as it turned out, there wasn’t much to worry about.

Through the camp’s app, I saw daily photos of my twins laughing with friends, sliding down waterslides, making art projects, hitting the beach, and embracing camp life exactly as I’d hoped they would. I wrote them digital letters every day from Europe (counselors printed out the messages and delivered them analog style). My son mailed just one back. My daughter — the one most skeptical about the camp experience — was apparently having too much fun to write at all.

Seeing them thrive made it easier for me to do the same.

We all came home changed

Parenthood has a way of becoming your entire identity, even despite best intentions to the contrary. Days fill with dropoffs and pickups, homework, work deadlines, grocery lists, and the endless logistics and emotional load of raising children. Even the happiest marriages can begin to revolve around managing a household instead of nurturing the relationship that started it.

For nearly three weeks, we got to step outside those roles. We weren’t abandoning our responsibilities. We were simply remembering who we had been before we became these humans’ mom and dad.

Ironically, giving our twins the opportunity to grow independently gave us that same opportunity. When we picked them up from camp, they seemed more confident, more independent, and somehow even kinder to one another.

We came home with something just as valuable: the reminder that after 12 years of parenting, the couple who built our family was still there.