I realize I rarely write about the little one on this blog. Whether it is a conscious or unintentional effort, I cannot tell. Considering that I spend the better part of my days with her, the few meager hours I have to myself after she meets her sandman are therefore particularly precious in my eyes. That feeling is probably more apparent here because it seems that I rant about everything under the sun except the love (loves, in case the man reads this) of my life. Unwittingly, this space serves as a stress outlet where I can be utterly self-centered and self-seeking without a tinge of guilt or shame.
Likewise, it is just as important that I steal away every now and then for a much-needed breather, either with the girls or on my own to preserve my sanity. As much as I love my little treasure with all my heart, I am aware that honoring me and my interests is essential for my mental health. I become more balanced and more patient. Yes, this sounds like a selfish mother but I am not built to be a superwoman. I remember asking a girlfriend why not enroll her kids for the everyday program in the daycare instead of the present two-days per week program. Her reply 'what would I do without my kids?' struck me silent. Clearly, she is a selfless mom and I admire and respect her for that. Yet, I do not strive to be someone whom I am not.
The man's recent weekend trip with the boys prompted me to sound him out if I should do the same. I am not so worried about his reply which was some form of a chuckle. Whether it's a yes or no, I have yet to find out. The fact that I am more concerned if I could enjoy a girlie trip, without the thought that things will fall apart at home in my absence and if the little miss demanding can handle that, is validation that a longer me-time is out of question for the now.
Or perhaps I should just learn how to let go.
