If there is a sudden decrease in cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop down from the compartment overhead. Place the mask over your nose and mouth and breathe regularly. If you are traveling with a small child, it is important to place your own mask over your face first, and then help the child.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that. I’ve often sat there and thought to myself, “I would never put it over my own face first, not if I was with my kid,” even as the flight attendant stood before me, instructing me to do just the opposite. And many times, I have actively sat there and thought it through, trying to tell myself why it would be important to put my own mask on first, forcing myself to visualize what could happen if I didn’t follow their instructions. Clearly, there is a reason parents are reminded of this before each and every flight: it goes against our nature to tend to ourselves first.

I can see this pattern emerge in my life just about every day. It’s hard to choose time for yourself when you feel like you’re choosing it over your family, like you’re putting yourself before the ones you love. For a few months now my husband and I have been trying to set aside a few hours for me to have to myself each weekend. It started out going strong but, as you can imagine, it dwindled after a few weeks, turning from an opportunity to do something I really wanted to do into me rushing around running necessary errands just without the kids. Don’t get me wrong, doing the trip to Target without two kids in tow is huge, but it hardly constitutes the time one needs to energize for the entire week. And here’s the thing: you need to take that time to energize. Seriously. It’s taken me nearly three years to figure out that all the stuff I was told or read about after Sam was born - the stuff about getting help and setting aside “me time” and all those things that basically flew in one ear and out the other because it just felt impossible at the time - all of that was true. Who knew? The useless parenting magazines were actually on to something (other than just trying to sell you a magazine based on fear, fear, FEAR - Is Your Child At Risk? I’m pretty sure that’s on the cover of every single issue of every single one, be it risk of the flu or risk of becoming a tattle tale. Hurry! Buy the magazine and save your child! But I digress . . .)

And so here I am, three years later, coming up on the end of a rough winter in which I have become the mother of two, ready to admit that yes, I need to have some freakin’ me time. And you know why I don’t have to feel guilty about that? Because things have gotten rough enough that I know now that if I don’t get just a little something for myself once in a while I’m just not a good mom. And isn’t my goal to be the best mother I can be?

I’m not talking about huge life altering changes here either. A little goes a loooong way. For example, one problem time that my husband and I noted when we began looking into this was the half hour right when he comes home. He walks in the door and we’ve all been waiting for him. I finally have some relief, Sam finally gets to play with Daddy, and Robby gets a change of scenery. It should be a happy time for all. But it’s not. Hubby and I try to talk to each other because we’ve been waiting to do so all day, and our talking to each other frustrates Sam. Then we get frustrated. Then Sam gets worse. Then Robby picks up on tension and starts to get cranky. And before you know it we’re having one of those dinners where people are screaming and miserable and no one is eating or happy.

Solution: When Hubby comes home Mommy checks out. I put in my earphones and listen to my Ipod and it becomes official that Mommy is not here. In this manner I cook dinner, unload the dishwasher and do any other tidying that is necessary to function the next day. I know that sounds lame, like, wow, you’re suggesting I do chores to energize? No, I’m suggesting you make it as fun as you can. For me, listening to music that makes me happy and being “on my own” in my kitchen is enough to make me feel sane again after a very long day with the kids. It makes me enjoy putting the dishes away. I crank it loud, baby. I dance and sing and get down. As soon as I put those earphones in and tune everything else out I feel my body change. My shoulders drop down again and I take in a huge, audible breath. It happens immediately.

Meanwhile, Hubby plays with the kids. They get his undivided attention when he first comes home so there is no competition. He gets to see them without distraction for the very brief time that he has with them each day. And we just wait to talk to each other because we are adults and we can wait. Do I feel guilty about checking out and letting my husband deal with all things kid related for 30 minutes while I make my family’s meal? Hell, no. Mommy is a whole lot nicer at dinner time now - more patient, more calm, perhaps even smiling. She can breathe again.

There is a reason we need to put our own mask on first. If we always tend to our children and ignore our own needs, we suffocate. And if we suffocate ourselves, then who is there to help our kids? I think I finally get it now.

Labels: Mommyhood