I am taking a day off. It has been decided. Addison is spending the day with her grandpa, scheduled in preparation for a day of barfing and stomach pains by the little one’s post-chemo sickness. But guess what? He is doing good! I keep the meds going and he keeps a smile on his little cute baby face.
So what I should be doing today is catching up on laundry, unpacking from the hospital, cleaning up my desk, looking at our bills, dusting, dishes, scrubbing down all the door knobs/buttons/switches, scheduling a dentist appointment for my daughter, making food for rest of the week, baking some muffins and bread for my husband, and cleaning my room.
Instead so far I have napped, posted a delirious blog I wrote at 6am this morning, laid in bed and started watching the TV show Endgame, and cuddled with my cute little baby boy. Oh and I made a sandwich.
Me time is usually a half hour bubble bath, coffee with a friend, or a blog post (usually written over 3 hours while interrupted 25 times by one kid or another). A day…. heck, four hours of “me time” does not happen unless I am sick or physically ill.
I know what you are thinking: Poor housewife sitting on her butt eating bon bons complaining about being home all day long. Well listen up, it’s my blog, I can whine if I want to.
It really is hard for me. An hour here or there I can do, but a day? It’s near impossible for two reasons:
1) It’s hard when there is so much left to do, and if I just get one more thing done today will make my tomorrow better. Obligation, that’s what keeps me from a day off. The feeling of all that I am responsible for is overwhelming for me. I don’t feel like there is an option most of the time to not clean, not do dishes, not run errands, or not focus on someone other than me.
Even when the stars align and I have the opportunity to take a day to myself, it’s spent running errands, catching up on housework, and doing all the little miscellaneous things you can’t do with kids attached to your hip.
Take my current “day off”. I is involving me spending the day in my master bedroom. The mess of my house, gives me stress…constantly. I couldn’t sit in the living room and look at all the chores to be done, and actually relax. If anything sitting there and looking at the pile of unpacked bags from the hospital would just give me an anxiety attack. And I can’t go out because my son just went through chemo.
So here I am, in my bedroom. Which is really okay at the moment. My bed missed me after two nights at the hospital, we have to catch up.
2) I feel too much guilt when I want to take a day off. So I made the decision to take a day off. To chill and rest. Aaaand then promptly avoided telling my husband until almost noon. I feel guilty whenever I try to take a break. He’s at work, why should I get a day off but not him?
Now, My husband is a saint and encourages me to take time for myself. He is even happy when I do! (A happy wife means a happy life, or something like that).
But it’s still hard for me for some reason. I know there is stuff I should be doing, so why should I rest? What gives me the right, when my to do list is a mile long? On top of it, everyone else is at work right now, why should I have the right to be lazy?
I just feel so guilty.
But the fact that is slowly sinking in is that my job is a little different though than the 9-5 job I used to have. It now involves getting up at 1am, 3am, 5am and 7am…even on a Saturday. It’s the same work on a Monday, Wednesday or a Saturday. There is no real day off from being a mom, maid, cook, and life manager for 4 people. Particularly the maid part. It’s 24 hours and on holidays.
It’s being alone with the kids all day, and then still Friday night, when all I want to do is be alone in my room with a book, so my husband can go play a table top RPG with his friends. Or getting up at 7am every Saturday so my husband can have one day to sleep in.
Taking time off during the weekday…or whenever I can…make it so I can bless my husband (who works a full-time job and a part-time job) more. I like that. I am okay when I think about it like that. He works hard, and comes home and is the most hands-on dad around. He deserves to sleep in on a Saturday.
But sometimes all of it it really does get taxing.
This morning I realized that I just don’t have energy for one more thing. I am exhausted. A little bit physically, but primarily just emotionally. I was ready for a break. I can’t be the strong mom, without me time. And I need to be okay with that.
Admitting I am not superwoman, asking for help, and taking time for myself is not me being lazy or incapable. It’s me being the best that I can be.
I typed it. I think it. I even know it. But I still don’t believe it. Let’s say that again slowly…
Admitting I am not superwoman,
asking for help,
and taking time for myself,
is not me being lazy or incapable.
It’s me being the best that I can be.
Hmmm… What do you think? Am I right? Am I wrong? What do you struggle with when it comes to taking time out for yourself?
Comment below or email me! I’d love to hear what you think. I just may not get back to you until tomorrow, because I am going to curl up with a book now and maybe take a nap.
Peace out ya’ll!