I’ll be honest, I think this has been one of the more challenging series for CMB contributors to write. But while it’s hard, I think it is equally important; it’s critical to take time out from the nagging self-doubts and recriminations and acknowledge what makes each of us special and uniquely suited to be the best parents to our kids. I pondered for a couple of months on this question before coming up with an answer and upon finding it I feel even more vulnerable because my strong might at first sound so counter-intuitive, so UN-motherly. But it IS a strength, and I think it’s one worth sharing.
I know how to be selfish.
From the moment our babes are born and laid on our chests, mothers subvert their needs to those of our children. There is a saying that in becoming a mother you learn what it is to have your heart walking around outside of your body. And this is true (times two for me). We do this willingly, cheerfully, with joy and gratitude, and sometimes with a fear that grips all our internal organs to a frozen stop. We un-learn or un-make our personal habits and routines to reform them around our children and their schedules. Newborns, infants, and even toddlers demand this selflessness, and we give it. We spend nights feeding and comforting and groggy days changing, laundering, playing, trying to remind ourselves of the infinite patience we so want to model. But little by little those infants gain independence – pushing up, rolling over, crawling, walking – and even if they still have to be supervised most or all of the time, they don’t necessarily HAVE to be glued to their mamas. I remember the first times I was able to strap my babies in a bouncy seat on the bathroom floor for just 10 minutes so I could have a hot shower – bliss!
And then, I started running again. While many expectant moms continue to run comfortably through much or all of their pregnancies, I did not. I got pretty uncomfortable with running very quickly so relegated myself to walking or using an elliptical until my babies were delivered. So those first runs after each child was born were precious – slow and a little painful – but precious still, a few stolen moments to be alone, to feel my legs and arms and swing them freely, without a nursing newborn in tow. Now, I run 5 days a week, including a weekend long run that usually takes me away from my family for at least and hour and a half, and sometimes up to two hours. Two hours of sweating, breathing, moving to the music in my headphones and either a thousand thoughts or sometimes the perfect nothing of rhythm and form and motion rolling around in my head. When I get home, I demand yet more alone time for a lengthy shower and stretch, all while Dad is on duty with E and J. Do I feel guilty about this weekly indulgence? Hardly. I guard it. JEALOUSLY.
While I’ve been blessed in this year to move into a job that allows me to work from home, I do still work full-time, which means my kids are either in pre-school, school, or summer day camp from basically 9am – 5pm or 9am – 4pm most days. And yet, despite the fact that our hours together during the week are so few and so treasured, I don’t hesitate to take those weekly long runs, or to make a date to go out with friends whenever all of our ridiculous schedules can be aligned. Scott and I take advantage of date nights as often as babysitters and his even more ridiculous schedule allow. In the last year I’ve instituted a new meal-time policy – I’m still serving everyone else first, but once kids have their food and drinks and I sit down, I am NOT getting back up again for any further requests until I’ve finished my food. I’m determined to eat my meals at least lukewarm. It’s true, some of these little deviations from the selflessness of motherhood (like the meal-time rule) are easier now that my children are a bit older. But I started insisting on getting my running time as soon as my ob/gyn would clear it after giving birth (at about 4 weeks post-partum). So far, I’ve succeeded in keeping the ubiquitous Kidz Bop from defiling my personal sound space (eventually if E or J want to buy it with their own money, c’est la vie). Since birth I’ve endeavored to introduce my kids to my music and only the smooth tones of Mr. Bob Marley would soothe E on the commute home from work/daycare when she was an infant.
So why is my “selfish” a parenting strength? Because first of all, as the saying goes, self-care is not selfish after all. Taking care of my own needs keeps me feeling happy and fulfilled; it makes those thousand small sacrifices I do make for my kids so much easier. Putting myself first from time to time ensures that I don’t grow bitter and resentful. As my fellow CMB contributor has keenly noted, “if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” What’s more, I think it’s a positive example for my kids. If she should choose to become a mother, I don’t want to see E subsume her personality for the (in my view misguided) sake of her children, either, and I wouldn’t want J to expect that of his partner. I want my children to know me – the real, well-rounded, flawed, loving, messy, beautiful, weirdo me. And one day these little ones are going to be all grown. I don’t want to have lost pieces, at least not the important pieces, of the woman and human I was before I became a mom, because when my babies are grown and living their own lives, I’ll need to re-stitch my sense of self around the spaces where I don’t need to mother so much anymore. A little bit of “selfish” can go a long way.
I feel the same way. I take time away for just me and it is great for me.