I am a procrastinator. I’ve always been a procrastinator. I was the champion of leaving things to the last minute, and then plowing through with good results at the end. Usually. I mean sometimes. Not always, but mostly. I was proud of that skill but come to think of it maybe it was just luck. Either way, I didn’t have to worry too much because things always worked out in the end.
I miss those days.
Now my days are planned out. I have activities to take the kids to, appointments to keep, the endless mountain of laundry to do and the list goes on. I would love to have some time to myself, some time to do anything on my mile long list of stuff I need to do, but I can’t do any of it due to the twenty pound and thirty pound anchors I have attached to this sinking ship. My kids.
I LOVE my kids with all my heart, don’t get me wrong. Is it so wrong to want a few minutes to myself every day? My mom guilt prevents me from taking the time I need to get things done away from my children. I have tons of laundry to put away for example, but I somehow get sucked into playing with the little people with my toddler. I try my hardest to do what I can to balance the needs and wants of my kids with my own, but something is always sacrificed. In this case, it’s me and my self care.
My son has a hard time sleeping alone. His crib is right next to my bed, and it comforts him to know that I’m inches away if he needs me. He falls asleep to the sound of me breathing (in addition to a sound machine and overhead fan) and instantly knows if I’m not there. It’s very sweet, but very annoying. He needs total darkness, and no noise other than the things mentioned above. This means I’m unable to write on my laptop, read books (unless on my phone but it hurts my eyes after a while) or do anything else productive. I have been enjoying a lot of Netflix original programming since it’s just about all I can do.
On the rare occasion that I am able to leave the bedroom for an extended period of time, I spend that time with my husband. He works long hours, and then by the time the evening routine and bedtime routines are over, we’re lucky to spend even half an hour together. I feel guilty doing anything for myself during that time because I enjoy spending the few precious moments we have child free together. It’s nice being able to catch up after a long day and enjoy a civilized adult conversation.
I know this won’t last forever. I know eventually my son will sleep longer than he is and require less and less help to sleep. It’s completely worth the lack of “me time” to see his eyes light up and his toothy grin when he wakes from a nap. I love seeing his eyes searching for me from across the room and the complete joy when we are reunited. I love seeing how excited my daughter becomes when we begin a game or imaginary pretend play. Her laughter makes eating the same plastic slice of pizza over and over worth it. The “me time” can wait I guess, because living in the moment and enjoying the neediness is what I really need before it’s all gone.