I’m Done Waiting Until Life Calms Down

I kept telling myself:

When my son is older, we'll finally take a real family vacation.

When I make more money, I'll ease up on working on my phone all day.

When I have more time, I'll read more.

When life isn't so chaotic, I'll start taking better care of myself.

And then my son started preschool. Suddenly, I had these tiny little pockets of time where he wasn't home.

Not days. Not afternoons. Not some magical four-hour block where I could shower, clean the entire house, read a book, answer emails, work on my business, exercise, and emerge as a completely new woman.

We're talking a couple of hours... sometimes less.

And you know what I realized? I need to STOP waiting for more time and start using the time I actually have.

Because apparently, I had been waiting for the mythical season of motherhood where nobody needs a snack, nobody has a runny nose, the laundry is folded, the house is clean, my inbox is empty, and my nervous system has achieved enlightenment.

...I'm beginning to suspect that season does not exist.

There are lunches to pack, appointments to make, laundry that apparently reproduces overnight, meals to figure out, preschool schedules, errands, bedtime routines, and approximately 47 tiny emergencies happening before noon.

Sometimes survival really does come first... but somewhere between “my child needs me” and “I'll get to myself eventually,” it's really easy to forget that I live here too.

This is my life too. And I don't want to spend the next decade waiting for it to become convenient enough to actually enjoy it.

I don't need two hours. I need to stop believing 15 minutes doesn't count.

I don't have hours of uninterrupted time to myself.

...Most moms don't. But maybe I have 15 minutes to sit in silence.

Maybe I can read a few pages of a book instead of waiting until I have an entire evening.

Maybe I can take a walk.

Maybe I can do my nails.

Maybe I can actually eat lunch while it's still warm.

Maybe I can sit in my car for ten minutes and stare into the void before going back inside.

Honestly, some days that last one feels like self-care. 

Sometimes taking care of myself means putting the cleaning down.

Sometimes it means saying, “The house can wait.”

Because yes, I need to clean, but I also need to exist outside of my responsibilities.

And I'm done waiting to do the things I actually want to do.

I want to feel like a woman who has interests, dreams, hobbies, opinions, and a personality outside of being someone's mom.

And I don't think wanting those things makes me less present for my son...

If anything, I think it makes me a better example for him. I want him to grow up understanding that loving your family doesn't mean disappearing inside of them.

So, I'm learning to work with the life I actually have.

Not the imaginary one where everything is organized and calm. Not the one where I suddenly have unlimited money and free time. Not the one where my house is always clean and I somehow remember to drink enough water.

THIS one.

The messy one. The loud one. The beautiful one.

The one where I might only have 15 minutes.

Because this is life... and I don't want to miss it waiting for the next season to begin.