“Me time” is a foreign concept to me. Turo and I have pretty much maintained our own personal activities, goals, and undertakings, so while we do a lot of things together, we still have our own stuff to ourselves. In a way, having some personal time is a given, and it doesn’t have to come off as something that needs to be planned or scheduled, or extremely hard to come by.
I’ve always been content with getting a dose of peace and quiet while riding a bus through the expressway, or walking to the bus stop, or train station. To me, clearing my head for a few minutes, that’s “me time” enough.
Until I became a stay-at-home mom. Here’s the deal, when you’re a mother to four kids, and you work at home, and you educate your children at home, and you exclusively breastfeed any one of those kids at any given time, plenty of times it’ll be overwhelming. No more peaceful bus rides, or quiet walks to the office. Suddenly, life is suffocating and there’s very little room to breathe deep, and be still.
I’m not complaining. I’m perfectly happy being home with my family 24/7. Although sometimes, a break would be helpful, if not wonderful. But it’s not like I can just walk out of the house anytime I like. Of course, I can’t leave my little people behind.
Turo and I have our coffee time. Twice a day. And then another round of caffeine-free drinks late in the evening. That’s “us time.” We have carved it out into our routine. And it’s sacred.
But the “me time”, I’m just starting to find a good rhythm for that. So tonight, Turo went out drinking with his buddies. I put the babies to sleep early. The older boys and I finished a movie, so now they’re off to bed. I boil water for my ACV+honey+cinnamon drink. I light up a lavender-scented soy candle. I play a jazz piano playlist saved by Uri on Spotify. I put warm water and Epsom salt into a basin, and soak my feet in. Did I mention that we were out at the farm earlier weeding, and my legs are sooo tired? Oh, the foot soak was heavenly. Now why have I never done anything like this before? For five long minutes, I enjoyed the sweet smell of the room, and the warm water on my feet, and the syncopated beat of jazz, with my eyes closed. It felt like a bus ride. Or a walk home alone. And I loved it.