Time for Me

That's something I have to do for myself.  Make time for myself. 

Time to shower, time do put on makeup, time to read, time to do nothing but be.

That's the thing about being Mom.  My job is to take care of everyone around me, but who's going to take care of me?  For the lack of another qualified candidate it has to be me.

There's this image that mothers try to live up to.  This impossible standard of a well-manicured woman with an immaculate house who makes extravagant dinners but her kitchen's still clean.  A woman who makes sure that everyone's bed is made, the toilet seat is kept down, the pantry is full, the playroom is clean, and the diaper bag is always packed.

We accept this image of a well-run house, but what about the woman behind it all?

How does she find the time to be so put together?

She has to take time for herself.  She has to set limits in order to do this.  How come we don't see that part?  And when the hell does she do it?!?  Out of the plethora of baby advice I received, I really wish someone would have just said to me, "you deserve to shower every day."

Instead I got advice on which diapers to buy, what clothes Lou should be wearing at every stage of life, tricks to get food out of the minuscule crevices high chair manufacturers are apparently mandated to make (why aren't high chairs made of one solid piece of plastic? that would eliminate the countless folds and cracks that trap baby food and breed mold...), what food I should buy, what food I shouldn't buy, which diaper cream was best, where to buy nursing pads, how to fold blankets to form perfect baby sushi rolls, what music to play at bedtime, what music to play in the morning, what books I absolutely, positively must read to my child. 

But nothing, not one little bit of it, was about how to take care of me.  How am I supposed to shower when I have a child who sleeps no more than two hours at a time?  When do I get to read? Do I ever get to just sit?Oh, I should do all that when she's sleeping?  Ok, well then when do I sleep? 

But that's the point of motherhood (martyrhood?).  No one cares if your teeth are brushed.  What matters is whether everyone is fed, diapers are clean, there's socks to wear to the playground and you know what's for dinner.  You have to be the one to care about you, and it's all about finding a balance. 

After my ethereal epidermal with Lou I was seized with the compulsion to curl my eyelashes.  I believe the drug-induced logic was that people would be looking at me, fretting over me after I had given birth. 

Oh how I was mistaken. 

Despite seventeen hours of the most gruesome pain of my life, no one gave a damn how I was doing.  It wasn't about me anymore.

So it's not about me, and it never will be.  But through it all, I do still care whether or not I'm clean.  I do feel better when I've curled my eyelashes, and I'm a hell of a lot more confident when my underwear is clean.  And that's the thing about being Mom.  I'm the one in charge now, I'm to one to take care of others, there's no one here to remind me that it's ok to be clean.  I'm the one who does the teaching now.

So I'm trying to lead by example.  Sure, I could play with Lou as soon as I get up.  But I'll be a much better sport if I have a cup of coffee and let myself shower first.  She won't waste away without me for fifteen minutes and she'll learn that I'm human too- crazy concept.  Hey, she might even learn that showers are something she should WANT to do in the morning.  I can take twenty minutes to read sometimes.  If I want my child to read, it can't just be something I preach.  She values what I value and if I read, then she will too.  And I can curl my eyelashes in the morning.  Odds are I won't give her some makeup complex, hopefully I just teach her to make sure she's put together.

So maybe that baby advice I needed was really just some reassurance that it's ok to take care of me too, doing so won't take away from my parenting.

Well that and, "Leave sometimes!  Everyone will be better off if you do."