The irony of Self-Care

A few Sunday mornings ago I was muttering
under my breath.  I was wishing away the
years, which I know better than to do. 
It happened while I was braiding hair before church and while I was on
the 4th braid.  I was wishing
for the Sweet Spot.

I was distant on the way to
church.  Unresponsive.  M knew right away that I desperately needed
some time for self-care.  He declared
that I needed coffee (I did) and an afternoon alone. 

It was obviously evident that
I hadn’t had any time to myself.  I
actually can’t remember the last time I had any time to myself.  I did have last Wednesday morning but I spent
the morning scrubbing our kitchen table (legs and all) and steam mopping our
floors.  While that may be self-care for
some, it’s definitely not self-care for me. 

I thought about it all while
we were in church.  Where would I
go?  What would I do?

On the way home, I told M I
didn’t have anywhere to go.  Which was
partially true.  I could go and write
(which was his first suggestion) but I rarely have the words when I have the
time. 

He asked me what I would do
if I could do anything.  My answer? Spend
the afternoon with the girls.  I miss my
big girls now that they are both at school all day.  The weekends aren’t long enough.  Truthfully, if I could have done anything
alone, it would have been to go shopping but we’re working our tails off to
become debt free so shopping wasn’t in the equation. 

Why is when faced with an
opportunity to leave the house until dinner time that the people I want to be
with more than anything are our girls? 
Weren’t they just driving me crazy? 
Wasn’t I just wishing for some time to myself?

Self-care may be the one area
of motherhood that I experience guilt about. 
But it’s not because I feel guilty about leaving them for the afternoon.  It’s because there’s really no place I’d
rather be.  

xoxo

–k