Okay, let’s get real – who else here has accidentally used baby wipes to clean their coffee mug? 🙋♀️ No? Just me? Cool, cool. sips questionable latte
Three years into this parenting gig, I realized I’d become a professional snack fetcher/butt-wiping ninja who’d forgotten her own Spotify password. My entire personality had been reduced to “human iPad charger.” Then one Tuesday, while scraping Play-Doh off my work blazer (multitasking queen!), it hit me: My kids needed to meet the actual me – not just MomBot 3000.
The “Me Time” Myth (And Why We’re Doing It Wrong)
Newsflash: “Self-care” isn’t just guzzling cold coffee in the bathroom while watching TikTok dances. A 2022 Harvard study found moms experience cortisol spikes comparable to combat soldiers – and no, bubble baths don’t fix that. My breakthrough came when I started micro-dosing hobbies. Five minutes of watercoloring during nap time? Sketching bad sunflowers that look like fried eggs? Suddenly I remembered: Oh right, I’m someone who laughs at weird art!
The Radical Art of Being a “Selfish” Parent
Here’s the tea: Kids don’t want martyrs, they want interesting humans. When I started taking Thursday night pottery classes (RIP to six lumpy mugs), my toddler thought it was cool that “Mama makes magic mud.” Bonus? My “me-time” became their “look-what-Mama-made!” time. Psychologists call this “modeling self-worth” – I call it finally using that Groupon from 2019.
Identity Resurrection Toolkit (No, Really)
1. The 7-Minute Soul Reset: Found a study showing 7 minutes of daily intentional activity boosts self-perception. My routine: Blast Lizzo while reorganizing the Tupperware cabinet. It’s meditation with better bass.
2. Secret Hobby Stacking: Fold laundry while listening to true crime podcasts about historical plagues. Suddenly you’re a domestic goddess and Renaissance history buff.
3. The “Who Even Am I?” Prompt: Ask yourself daily: “What did I love before knowing the Paw Patrol theme song?” (For me: vintage roller skates and making obscenely spicy chili.)
When Messy Becomes Magic
Last month, my daughter found my old journalism portfolio. “Mama, you’re a superhero with words!” she declared, clutching my article about sewage treatment politics (glamorous, I know). That’s when it clicked: Our unmasked selves are the best legacy. Now we have “silly research nights” where we “investigate” why pickles float or how many Goldfish it takes to reach the moon. I’m not just raising kids – I’m reintroducing myself to myself, one weird question at a time.
So here’s your permission slip: Let dinner be cereal sometimes. Dig out that pre-mom leather jacket. Talk about your college backpacking fails at bedtime stories. Your kids won’t remember Pinterest-perfect bento boxes – they’ll remember the version of you that lights up when explaining why the sky’s blue or how to make slime explode.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with my sketchbook…and 37 unsupervised markers. Pray for my walls. 😉