Journal

Checking Out to Check In

It’s almost 10:30 on a school night. I should have been ready for bed almost an hour ago. I know my body needs at least 8 hours of sleep to function properly the next day, but it’s 10:30 and I’m engrossed in Harry Potter and the Dealthy Hallows (Part 2.) It’s impossible not to finish this movie out.

It’s been a really long weekend. My daughter had her spring dance recital today and dress rehearsal yesterday (where we sat in a basement classroom for three hours for God knows why.) Plus we had the normal weekend grocery shopping, yard chores, cleaning, ect. On top of all that, we had to prepare for the husband to leave for an extended period of time.

For some reason, we’re all taking it a bit harder than normal- him leaving is our normal. But the kids took it harder than ever and I did, too. The boy child has had several crying meltdowns over how much he misses his daddy already and we haven’t even made it through 24 hours. I cried several times, too, which isn’t like me. I usually cry right when he leaves, but I’ve found myself tearing up out of no where.

So here I sit, watching Harry Potter, with a belly full of angel food cake and berries that I made just for the heck of it, when I should be sleeping or crossing things off my to-do list. The laundry still needs switched, the dishwasher needs emptied, and I’m sure the house could stand tidying.

But you know what? I. Do. Not. Care.

The laundry will stay in the washer. The dishes will stay in the sink. The emails will sit in my inbox. If it’s not accomplished by bedtime, it waits until tomorrow. It may mean I’m causing a bit more stress for myself the following day, but you know what? I don’t care. Hell, maybe it’ll even make me more productive during the day if I know I have “me time” to look forward to at night.

I used to bust my ass every night when the kids went to bed. I’d clean and work and prep for the next day. I wouldn’t go to bed until the dishes were done and the laundry folded and my inbox read “0”. I was worn out and frazzled. It wasn’t worth it. My sanity is worth more than a clean load of laundry or a tidy living room.  

I need an hour or two to myself to unwind and relax. I need to watch tv or build a LEGO set or color or read. I need to just take a moment and breathe because if I don’t? If I don’t, I’ll go insane. I can’t be the parent I need to be if I am burnt out. I need to recharge so I have energy to do school and sports and ballet and tap and all the adulting. This isn’t a want. This is a need.  So this is me giving myself permission to not care. This is me telling myself that guilt isn’t even a factor. This is necessary. It’s vital. It’s how we will all make it through this trip.

And if someone thinks it makes me lazy or selfish or I lose out on a gig?

Well, I don’t care.

What’s your favorite way to relax at night?

I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago and decided to finally publish it because it worked. I may adapt this for every day life, even when the husband isn’t out of town. 

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