So I’m here. I made it this time. The end.
I got to have brunch this morning with a few girl friends from high school. We didn’t really run in the same crowd back then, but our common bond was choir. Last year we hooked up at a choir reunion, had some beers and fun times afterward, and promised to do it again. And yesterday, the stars aligned to actually keep that promise.
I didn’t get out of the house sans drama. And I didn’t return to a fairytale. But it did get me thinking about that trite advice one receives as a young mother: make sure to take time for you!
I think that I don’t take a lot of time for myself, but I’m not sure that’s entirely true. I feel as though I don’t because I don’t get to run off for a spa day or mani/pedi on a whim, mostly for financial reasons than time. And I take time to volunteer, which is just as much for me as it is for the actual greater good. Let’s not forget the gym time which is at worst 4 hours a week with the children being minded and my mind on nothing but myself. Add in the time I
waste spend on the
internets…well, it’s a wonder how my kids get clean and fed at all.
So why do I still feel like I don’t get any me time? Am I just that selfish? Or is my job so emotionally demanding that I need twice the amount of rebound time than, say, Fella? Am I just a complete asshole?
Maybe I need to seek solace in more activities that replenish rather than deplete; or maybe I just need to spend more time in quiet contemplation. But for now, I’ll take a Bloody Mary, a four-hour brunch with old girlfriends, and lots of laughs on the side.
And I'll see you back around these parts, just not every.single.day. Thanks NaBloPoMo.