Lately, I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed with everything. Finding time to myself has been next to impossible the last few days and it’s rather driving me nuts. There is a part of me crying out for five freakin’ minutes of me time, like full out alone me time and that part of me has been getting louder and louder with her cries.
I don’t exactly know what I want to do with that me time when I have it, I feel like I never full get me time. My attention is always diverted to something else, someone else. Someone elses’ needs. Children, husband, cat, house, everything. My mind is constantly going, constantly worrying. I feel like I’m looking for the Where’s Waldo? of me time, and for some reason I can never find that white and red striped shirt.
I sometimes get a few minutes here and there, where I’ll jump in the shower and try my hardest to get myself all dolled up before my name is being called.
I was able to muffle the voices, the demands, for 20 minutes yesterday. I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the shower and then, the sound of my hair dryer, which I had put on specifically to drown out the voices for a few more minutes. I know the boys were fine with their Daddy, even if Archer protested loudly. I haven’t blow-dried my hair since my mother-in-law was up helping the week of Archer’s birth. I haven’t had the time. Archer doesn’t like when I leave his sight for too long, he complains the entire time so I often toss my hair up in a pony tail, still soaking wet. I rarely have the time, am rarely able to make the time to invest in me. To apply makeup, do my hair, get all dressed up. I rush those tasks every day, and I suppose I’m getting pretty good at doing my get-ready routine in just five minutes. But yesterday, it was nice to take more time, even if Archer’s eyes, red from crying big crocodile tears because I wasn’t around for a whole twenty minutes, made me instantly guilty and regret the extra time I took getting ready. But…it was needed.
Right now, in this moment, I feel rather like I’m suffocating in my to-do-but-never-done list. It’s the list I have in my mind, with all the things I need to do but can’t get around to doing because Nolan wants to play with me or Archer wants to nurse or be held by me. Or it’s meal times. Or we’re out of the house. There’s a billion reasons why those things on that list don’t get done, but I still beat myself up over it. Not because I regret using [all] my time hanging out with the boys, but because I take a look around my house at the end of each day and feel immensely guilty that I wasn’t able to accomplish my chores on that damn to-do list. The kids are always fed, always loved, always played with…but those chores rarely get done. Unless it gets to the point when I can’t put it off any longer, and I have to just do it while I let Nolan play by himself and while Archer sits in the swing. At the end of those days, I feel guilty because I didn’t play with my kids as much as I should have.
I can’t seem to win. My expectations are too high for myself. I’m not quite sure how to lower them, or if I even should lower them. After all, shouldn’t we always reach to be better? To be greater? Maybe one day I can find the balance I’m striving for.