When you have a toddler, you don’t have time … fact.
You have time for them … listening to wonderful made up stories, patching up sore knees, curling up together breastfeeding at bedtime or in the early morning, encouraging them to eat the nourishing meal you’ve lovingly prepared / thrown together / plonked infront of them, walking down the street holding a tiny hand while it’s owner walks on the cracks in the pavement (or jumps over the cracks depending which day of the week it is), brushing soft hair, hanging out small clothes, watching dance class, cheering at impressive trampoline routines, sitting back and wondering how it’s possible you have a three year old and how you’re capable of such absolute love.
I also have time for looking after my mother … she needs it these days, and for cooking and bed making, though not enough time for listening to the stories I know I’ll regret not hearing her tell one day.
What I don’t have time for is myself … or not my old self … hair cuts, reading books, going swimming, buying grown up stuff, taking walks, long baths, chatting to friends on the phone, wine soaked suppers, having a massage, catching the late train after spontaneous dinners… nor the money … it seems like such a luxury, and such decadence to spend money on myself. Unless anything urgent crops up; a work interview,a new client, a TV appearance …
but
I need to inject that time in … not just for me, but for her, she needs to grow up with a mother who keeps fit, who looks presentable and is aware of the rest of the wider world. At the moment all she needs is me loving her, nurturing her and keeping her safe and secure, giving her adventures and challenges, but it won’t be long before she’s looking wistfully at other mothers, wondering why I’m not as coiffed or sporty, well dressed or up on music.
So, I’m trying to take time, a few moments when I can, to attend to me … I generally forget to remember to shave my legs and every time I plan on going for a long walk it pours with rain or has gone dark or is time to pick her up from her childminder, but I have managed a haircut this week, and I even had a whole bath by myself and had time to lay back and close my eyes and relish the warmth and the peace. Then she appeared, “Mummy, I get in bath with you? Mummy I want milky … Mummy you want ducks in bath too?” and my attention and my time was hers again … and I was happy.
Then I realised, all the time I spend with her and doing things for her is time for me. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing … that’s why the old kind of me time has been squished down to tiny slivers.
I took her with me to have a hair cut this week, it was in London, my old world, I had a meeting first , she sat beside me and read a book, and then watched me sitting in the chair that went up and down and then asked for a broom to sweep up my hair … it was fun, we laughed alot and the adventure of traveling on the train together was marvelous.
So … time … I guess I need to be more organised, to schedule time more effectively, and also to always remember to relish time with a small person who at this rate (she’s 3, how did that happen??) won’t be a small person who always looks at me with absolute love for much longer.
