It could be that it’s my third rodeo. It could be that I have two other little people demanding my attention all day in addition to the one kicking me in the bladder and wreaking havoc on my sleep habits. Or it could just be pregnancy as usual. For whatever reason, I’ve never been more aware of my limited gas tank than I am right now.
At just over six months pregnant, I’m in full-blown selfish mode. I’ve put my notice in at my part time job so I won’t be working outside my home anymore. Sure the extra income would be nice, and I wasn’t really working that many hours anyway. But I don’t care. I’m done.
The housework has entered a state of suspense. Sometimes it gets done. Sometimes it doesn’t. Gone are the days where I need everything picked up before I crawl into bed. And things like dusting? Ha. Why bother?
Oh and cooking? Don’t get me started. Unless it’s down the bulk Mac and cheese aisle at Sam’s Club.
Even cuddling. Yep, that’s right. I have reached the point where I have actually turned down requests to cuddle from my children. Before you get fired up, they basically are snuggled all day long so there is no shortage of displays of affection in our household. But there comes a point where my gas tank is empty. I can’t be snuggled, groped, kissed or petted anymore. So instead I politely explain that Mommy is having her recharge time, just like we have to do with the iPad, and she would be happy to snuggle in a little while when she is recharged.
My poor sweet husband comes home from a long day and is handed a toddler to feed and a phone so he can call in take out as soon as he walks in the door while I collapse on my face.
There are even times I have excused myself from joining the family for breakfast in favor of retreating to eat alone for a few minutes while watching any show that isn’t on Kids Netflix.
I normally chalk it up to hormones. Even though I’m usually exhausted by the end of the day, I love being a stay-at-home mama to my littles. I enjoy the endless snuggles and can handle the cooking and the housework (mostly) and put off my recharge time until everyone is in bed so that I can be super mom when they are awake.
But that was when there were two.
I’m very aware of the approaching deadline that will bring yet another human that will need fed, snuggled, changed, and bathed. And I’m also aware that there will still only be one of me. My heart may expand to make room for a new little person but the hours in the day won’t. And it hasn’t been long enough since my last baby for me to forget the wrenching absence of sleep and energy. It was hard. And now I will do it all over again with a toddler and a first grader in tow.
So the truth is, I’m being selfish. On purpose. I’m choosing to make the time to choose myself. I’m intentionally hoarding alone time and personal space and quiet and rest. I’m saving up. And I’m not sorry.
Because this time, these snuggles, they won’t last forever. Time is already moving too quickly. There are already days where I don’t have the energy to fully appreciate this sacred time. I don’t want to simply care for these three beautiful, fierce, energetic little girls. I want to actually savor the experience of being their mother. And in order to do that, I need to save up all the energy I can, whenever I can.
Sometimes that means being a little selfish.