If You Give a Mom a Pedicure
What the F*CK do you want from me? I am standing in our driveway, screaming at my husband as my f-bombs echo off all the neighboring houses. Our kids are in the van, strapped into their car seats, crying for snacks and concerned because mommy is screaming at daddy; I am ready to murder my husband because he dared invite his mother to the playground with us. I grab the baby passive-aggressively out of the car and storm into the house. I get the baby down for his afternoon nap (god bless second children who are easy sleepers) and collapse onto my bed to ugly cry for an uncomfortably long time.
As I am wiping away the tears, I feel lost and defeated. The truth is, it wasn’t about my husband inviting his mom to the playground (I actually love and adore my mother-in-law), for me, it's never the thing in the moment. It is death by a thousand cuts, all these little things that add up, until I snap, because I’m overwhelmed, overstimulated, overtired, and underfed, surviving on the waffle scraps and dregs of a smoothie leftover from my three-year-old’s beautifully plated gourmet breakfast. Because maybe, just maybe, if I make him a waffle on a popsicle stick and call it a lollipop and sneak a leaf of spinach into the sugar-laden smoothie, he might not turn into a feral animal in the checkout line of Target when I tell him for the 47th time he isn’t getting a hot wheel car (bribe) today.
Every other reel on my Instagram feed talks about the weight of the default parent, and yes, the number of things I can accomplish while my husband poops is astounding, but how do we fix the default parent thing? If I schedule a monthly pedicure, spend an hour a week on a hobby, and “make space” for myself, that fixes everything, right? The weight of being the default parent slides off my shoulders, and suddenly I am that zen-badass mama who is balancing it all.
But the pedicure means I have to pick up the phone and schedule the appointment (#millenial, I can give a presentation in front of 900 people professionally, but call to book an appointment for myself, no thank you). And picking up the phone, reminds me I need to call the pharmacy for my son’s asthma medicine. Which means I need to find time to get to Costco and if I am going to drive all the way to Costco, well, I should make sure I have my list, do we need diapers, will my kids like bananas this week, there is a sale on juice boxes, but good moms don’t give their kid juice boxes. There I am in a full “if you give a mouse a cookie” spiral. If you give a mom some self-care, she’ll end up in the driveway dropping f-bombs.
Would it have been better to calmly suggest to my husband that he and his mother take the kids to the playground so I could go shower alone and spend time getting that rogue chin hair, yes. But I didn’t, and that’s okay.
Sometimes I need to yell, sometimes I need to scream f*ck, over and over again at my husband in the driveway, and sometimes I need to ugly cry alone in my room, or during a Baby Booty social circle. It was my own version of a toddler temper tantrum, because even at 37, that is okay. Asking for help is F*CKING hard. Accepting help is F*CKING hard. Apologizing later that day for yelling was f*cking hard. I love to put others first, (recovering codependent here), I’m never not going to put my kids first, most days, I’m going to put my husband first, but occasionally, I am going to get all she-hulky and demand that my needs come first. Not only that my needs come first, but that I don’t even know what my needs are because I am too busy taking care of other people, and that’s okay.
The key for me in all of this, is the AND.
I can love my three year old so much AND want to throttle him at the same time.
I can squeeze my younger baby tight AND want him to start walking so I don’t have to keep cleaning his dirty shins.
I can daydream about couples vacay laying on the beach reading a book AND not wanting to go have an adventure without my tiny humans.
I can be so excited to be done with breastfeeding AND miss those sweet middle of the night feeds.
I can want to push myself and hustle at work AND count the minutes until the workday is done.
I can state (or scream) my needs AND feel like I am not worthy of having my needs met.
As the little feline tiger Daniel sings about, sometimes you feel two feelings at the same time, and that’s okay.
It’s Okay to Be Messy
You don’t need to have it all together. If you need to scream in the driveway or ugly cry in your car, do it. Parenting is hard, and we’re allowed to have meltdowns too. The key? Don’t beat yourself up afterward. We’re human, not superheroes.
Know That Your Needs Matter (Even if You Don’t Always Know What They Are)
It’s easy to forget what you need when your entire focus is on other people and competing priroties. But taking care of yourself doesn’t have to look like a perfectly scheduled spa day. Sometimes it’s five minutes of sitting in your car in silence or buying yourself a coffee while running errands. Start small. Your needs don’t have to be fancy to matter.
You Can Love Your Kids and Still Want to Escape Them
It’s possible to feel two things at once: deep love for your children AND an overwhelming urge to hide in the bathroom. The key is to embrace the "and" without guilt. Both emotions are valid, and it doesn’t make you a bad parent.
Ask for Help (And Don’t Feel Guilty About It)
Asking for help is hard, but sometimes you need to offload some of the mental load. Whether it’s asking your partner to tag in because you hit your limit, relying on Ms. Rachel as a babysitter, or simply venting to your mom group, let people in. And this takes practice, start small, it gets easier over time.
Take the Pressure Off “Perfect” Self-Care
Self-care doesn’t have to look like bubble baths and pedicures. Sometimes it’s about saying no to things, taking a shower in peace, or even just putting yourself to bed early. It’s the little things that keep us sane.
And now to go call in that asthma prescription.