Sometimes, all I want is a little time to myself.
Not an elaborate vacation or an entire weekend away. Sometimes I just want to sit in my car for a few extra minutes without anyone asking me a question. I want to walk through a store without keeping up with three different conversations or reminding someone not to touch everything. I want to watch something that is not animated, eat a meal while it is still warm or take a bath without hearing “Mama?” from the other side of the door.
But then, when I finally get that time, something strange happens.
I feel guilty.
I start thinking about what I should be doing instead. Maybe I should be spending time with the girls. Maybe there is laundry waiting, a message I have not answered or something around the house that needs my attention. If I go somewhere without them, I wonder whether they feel left out. If I spend money on myself, I immediately think about what I could have bought for them instead.
I can spend hours feeling overwhelmed and wishing for a break, then spend the entire break missing the very people I needed a break from.
Motherhood is funny that way.
Before becoming a mother, I never realized how difficult it would be to do something solely because I wanted to do it. Mothers are expected to justify their time. We can go to work because that contributes to the household. We can run errands because the family needs groceries. We can attend an appointment because it is necessary. But doing something simply because it makes us happy can feel selfish.
We call it “me time,” but even that phrase makes it sound like something separate from real life, like an indulgence we must earn after everyone else’s needs have been met.
The problem is that everyone’s needs are never completely met. There will always be another load of laundry, another mess, another appointment to schedule and another person who needs something. If I wait until absolutely everything is finished before allowing myself to rest, I will never rest.
Still, the guilt comes easily.
I think part of it is because mothers are constantly reminded that childhood goes by quickly. We are told to soak up every moment because one day the toys will be gone, the house will be quiet and we will wish we could have these days back.
I know that is true. I already miss versions of my children who once existed. I miss the little voices, the tiny hands with the little dimples on the knuckles and the days when climbing into my lap could solve almost any problem.
But knowing that time moves quickly does not mean I have to enjoy every second of motherhood. It does not mean I am ungrateful when I need space. It does not make me a bad mother when I become overstimulated, exhausted or simply want to remember what it feels like to be a person outside of everyone else’s needs.
We can love our children more than anything in the world and still need a break from caring for them. Those two things can be true at the same time.
In fact, taking time for myself may be one of the healthier things I can show my daughters.
I do not want them to grow up believing that becoming a mother means disappearing. I do not want them to think love must always look like exhaustion or that a good woman proves her worth by giving until there is nothing left. I want them to know that they are allowed to have interests, friendships, dreams and quiet moments that belong only to them.
They will learn that partly through what I tell them, but mostly through what they watch me do.
If they see me constantly placing myself last, apologizing for resting and feeling guilty whenever I experience joy without first earning it, they may eventually do the same. But if they see me care for myself without abandoning the people I love, maybe they will understand that those things are not opposites.
Taking care of myself does not take something away from my children. It gives them a mother who is more patient, more present and more capable of enjoying the life we share.
That does not mean the guilt disappears. I still think about what I should be doing. I still miss them when I am away. I still sometimes rush through my own time because part of me feels as though I need to get back home and resume being needed.
But I am trying to remind myself that I am allowed to be needed by me, too.
I am allowed to rest before I reach the point of resentment. I am allowed to enjoy something that does not benefit anyone else. I am allowed to have a life that includes motherhood without being completely consumed by it.
My children do not need a mother who never leaves, never rests and never chooses herself.
They need a mother who loves them deeply and who shows them that loving other people should never require losing yourself.
(Paige Gurgainers is a mom of three girls, digital journalist for Webster Parish Journal.)