Here it is, Sunday night. There was a weekend somewhere, but I seem to have dropped it somewhere. So if you find where I left it, please return it.
I got to sleep in a little, but yesterday I was super excited to get up early to go see the fall colors. I woke up and it was like 30 degrees out and raining. And it rained all day long. No trip to see pretty leaves.
Instead we went out for breakfast and stopped for a movie. It wasn’t too bad of a day. We came home and I was all amped up to have a little spa time and maybe a nap. I began to assess the list of duties that I had been confronted with, and my spa and nap time began to shrink in front of me. I got a little upset. I wanted to squeeze too many things into a weekend that I had also pegged for an entire month’s worth of “me” time, and it dwindled away.
No home facials, no paraffin wax hand thingie, no head to toe exfoliation. Just a little nap. Then I got up and went to the store to make apple pie jam. It’s a long story.
So not totally what I expected the weekend to be. Today I had the community meal, so after running around, I got to have about 2 hours where I was waiting for food to cook. So I took a nap. In a pew. Don’t judge. I was using a church kitchen.
I’d like to think I can sneak in some spa time this week, or next weekend, but I won’t hold my breath. I was just telling someone the other day that I keep thinking “Once we get through this thing” or “once we are done working on this” that things will “level out” and it won’t be so crazy.
I live with 3 kids, I have 3 sets of parents, I work almost full time and am about to start another job. There will always be something. Something will always come up. This is my life now.
I know I have to find time for me. I know I have to take care of myself, and I know that sounds super easy. But ask any working mom or stepmom and they will tell you it’s not. Even homeschool moms, because, let’s be honest, that’s a job. I never get to read books (no matter how many I amass or how hard I try), I have a hard time watching tv. There’s just not time. Something always has to be cooked or cleaned or someone driven somewhere or needing a deep, meaningful conversation. Or just to joke around a bit.
It gets hard to not have time for me. I get frustrated, I feel neglected and start feeling unattractive. But I feel like those are things I can work on. I feel like I have the tools to adjust those things. The kids don’t. They have me right now, and those implications last longer than my eyebrows getting bushy or me having a few zits on my face.
And when you think about it that way, it makes sense. It might still be a little unpleasant sometimes, but it makes sense.