I’m just going to go ahead and say it. Those of us with toddlers, especially in dual or multiple form? Life is comparable to that of living in a circus.
A sticky sweet, heady mix of joy and exasperating mind trips – land of circus. If you’re a parent of sweet little non-monsters and this doesn’t pertain to you, then move along. I know not of your kind.
I’ll won’t make lists here of all that we do and all that we are to the amazing little people we rear. This isn’t about how parents lives are so much more difficult than those who don’t have kids…(but YES! Yes it is!)
It is also infinitely more rewarding and fulfilling. Opinions of which are just that – my opinions. I know there are those who would disagree. What this little piece is about, has to do with finding a way to gain back some time.
Time for oneself. Something that I’ve been struggling with for a long time, longer than I realized the resentment that had built up was attributed to. Being a good parent doesn’t mean letting go of every single thing that once made up who you were. Sure, some things change, alright EVERYTHING changes. But change doesn’t necessarily have to mean BLOTTO. Sayanora. No more you.
The feminist in me is ashamed to admit that I still feel guilty when I leave my family for a night or an afternoon for some ‘me’ time. That for the longest time I didn’t even consider getting back into a fitness regimine becasue there just weren’t enough hours in the day, unless I were to actually leave my kids for a few hours.
Which is a slippery slope of self (society?) imposed ideals, wherein I exchanged one set of ‘values’ and self-hate mongering for the other. Not a stay at home mommy? Work full-time and send the kids to daycare? Then I best not be taking any personal time outside of that.
It was all starting to make my head spin and heart hurt. We’re in this for the long-haul. I’m a mother FOR-EVAH. I’ve had to stop comparing myself to other women. Other mothers. Because that shit is damaging. Not inspiring. Comparison is the thief of joy. (So says Theodore Roosevelt). I’ve had to learn to re-build my world and take pride/pleasure in doing things for ME. My body, my vessel. As long as I am a mother, I’ll have this body to live in. I
want need to start feeling good in it again.
Something tells me that in taking better care of myself; my family will be getting the best of me. Maybe I won’t wake up at 40 and look in the mirror thinking – f**k, why did I let things go like this? Because that sort of stuff MATTERS.
Yes, I can still be a feminist and say that body weight and self-image matters.
At 35 (come February 3rd), I’m thinking about how I want to feel in my middle and old age. Not just what my body looks like. I want to lead by example to my kids. Where exercise and healthy eating are a regular daily part of life; to be actually enjoyed, not bemoaned. Not that things are as far off as that around here. But they could be better. In the interest of being honest, they could be a heck of a lot better.
Pulling in the reins means letting go. Here are some of the ways that I’ve been making and finding (and letting other things go) the time to hit the gorgeous trails I close to, love up my glutes and remember what a core is. Even if there are small humans bouncing off of my head.
Just. Let. Go.
More Babbles From Selena…
- 6 Potty Training Charts: DIY & Free Printables
- Natural Ways to Treat a Toddler’s Cold/Flu (That actually work!)
- My quest to manage my toddler’s aggression
- Third time’s a charm? Oh potty-training…we’ll conquer you yet!
Elsewhere on the internets…
Via my humble beginnings, mastering in general mayhem: le petit rêve.