Face Off

I have simple goals this year. I want to transform our house into a home, write more, and remember myself as a human being. The last one sounds silly, but somewhere between seeing a second blue line and now I have completely forgotten that I am an equally important being to the other members of my family.

I want to learn how to focus on myself, carve out moments where the only person I see is me, the only needs I meet are my own. I want to stop copping out. I want to stop saying that when my children are blessed my needs are met. that statement is partially true, part of my needs are met, but half-truths aren’t enough anymore.

Confession time. I haven’t had my hair cut by someone other than me estimating length using the bathroom mirror in over three years. I have gift cards to pay for it, just not the guilt free time to skip off and care about me. I sometimes shave only one leg because one of my kids comes into the bathroom to tell me a story, I become enraptured with them and I exit the shower without remembering to finish. I once finished getting my children ready for school, made dinner in the crock pot, packed everyone’s lunches and got myself to work before I realized that I still had a leave in treatment in my hair that was supposed to be washed out in the shower that morning, a shower that I was too busy to get into.  I recently decided to let my bangs grow longer because it covers the fact I haven’t had enough time to fully pluck my eye brows in over a year.

I am going to avoid clichés. 2015  isn’t the year of me, it was never going to be the year of re-energizing, or even the year of redefinition. That year can’t happen until 2027, starting in September when my youngest moves to college and I suddenly feel the urge to sing born free while hula-hooping in my yard barefoot and eating cookies (sorry neighbors).  Even if it can’t be a re-birthing year, 2015 can stop being the year of everything except me, but I am the only one who can control that destiny.

It feels like I am running full speed at a barrier, a familiar one that I have tried to tackle for ages, but when I get to the obstruction I realize I am in a face-off between a well rested, well-groomed young career woman and a good mom. Except both sides are me and I can’t figure out how to combine the two into one person. I wanted to wait to write this until I found a solution, a neat little bow with which to wrap up my thoughts. But the struggle is real and I continue to struggle more as my children get older and their needs get progressively more complicated.

So far I have incorporated yoga into my evenings, meditation into my mornings and child-led dance parties to pop music into my afternoons. There is joy there, radiating peace and finding my center. I signed on to do a few sponsored blog posts this year on beauty products for tired moms. I am going to count that as taking care of me, too. And if any of you figure out how to magically find your center and leaving the guilt behind let me know, I could use some tips.

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About TT&NB

Wife, Mother, grant writer, professional do-gooder and friend
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One Response to Face Off

  1. For what it’s worth, the tug may diminish somewhat but doesn’t go away as the kids get older. However, the realization that they would never have a perfect mom freed me to be a good-enough mom. (Which, may I hasten to add, isn’t an attempt to negate love being measured in both quantity and quality.) I’m still learning to come to terms with the reality that I am, in fact, the one making the decisions: I can own my value system and admit that I am getting some kind of pay-off from each of my choices, in one way or another. Who knows… performing one’s own haircuts just might make the most sense in a particular scenario — gift cards notwithstanding. As I cast my “yes” ballot for making 2015 the year of not-everything-except-you, allow me to suggest that the wall-like barrier may have recently sprouted a little crack, and rather than run head-on at full-tilt, you might just approach it from a new angle, and turn just a little sideways, and find yourself slipping beyond the barrier and experiencing this dance called parenting afresh…

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