The Self-Care Narrative.
Yesterday M and I had the whole day to ourselves. J was at school and P was with Babushka. We had a magical 10 hours to spend on ourselves and each other. Suffice it to say that by 5pm my self-care cup should have spillith’ over.
We walked in the front door at 5:20. The transition included report-outs from Dedushka and J, hugs for everyone, and mutual drooling over newly acquired treats. At 5:30 I walked into the downstairs bathroom and discovered a new creative explosion. J has been repurposing her craft materials to create “food” for the dinosaurs that she is determined to resurrect. The early childhood expert in me knows that this is a beautiful example of ingenuity and initiative - STEM skills that I definitely want to encourage. The HSP in me was immediately overwhelmed by the mess.
For context, our home is NOT tidy at baseline. The downstairs looks like a daycare classroom after the kids were left unsupervised. On a good day, 80% of surfaces are covered with toys, paper, beads, books, etc. Yesterday was particularly bad because M had dumped a load of clean laundry on the dining table and a few new packages (for P’s birthday) were cluttering the entryway. The downstairs bathroom already hosts the remnants of J’s digging and painting supplies (aka anything especially messy), and now the entire counter was covered with “food”. Whatever reserve of tolerance and patience I had built disappeared instantly.
Me: “J, come in here.” Firm reprimand followed by commencement of cleaning.
.. 5 minutes later
J: “Ok, I tried” [paint splatter from the outside of the sink has migrated to the inside of the sink and all over the faucet]
Me: “Pay attention. Is there purple on the sink? Then you’re not done.”
We proceed to clean together. As we finish up, I see that J is avoiding eye contact and pursing her lips. She’s holding back tears.
Me: “Come here buddy, what’s going on?”
J erupts in tears: “Am I a bad kid?”
Me: “No buddy, you’re an amazing kid with a beautiful heart. Being bad or good is about how you treat people (and animals). You’re amazingly kind and caring with people, now we have to take better care of stuff.” She calmed down fairly quickly and we moved on.
By 6:15 we were back downstairs waiting for M to finish his shower. J was doing this attention seeking bit where she sings loudly while wiggling her tush. Eventually J comes right up to P, and wiggles her little tush right in her sister’s face. P laughs as she pushes her sister away. So now my toddler has tush-coodies all over her curious little hands, both of which I am holding to prevent licking or eye rubbing. I see flashes of a pink-eyed-future and my jaw clenches. I’m seeeeeeeething mad.
You can imagine what came next. I used my stern voice, we cleaned P’s hands, J felt terrible, and I found myself wondering… how did my cup empty so damn quickly?? I had the whole day off, a radically precious gift, and it still wasn’t enough. How am I STILL so short tempered? Why am I always frustrated? What is wrong with me?!?
I seem to have bought into a narrative suggesting that if only we had enough whole-hearted self-care, if only we had enough time to ourselves, we would be calm and happy. It follows that if you have enough of these commodities (whatever “enough” means) and you’re not effervescent, you’re broken. Neither of these statements feel appropriate. I’m trying to be gentle with myself because I recognize that no amount of self-care can relieve us of our humanity. We’re inherently imperfect - no matter what. But I also want to hold myself accountable when my imperfections hurt people. Yes, J made a mistake, and so did I. I reacted too harshly; I piled on that kid.
So I’m trying to absorb this new narrative. I’m not broken, but I am inherently flawed. I lean into frustration like it’s a badge of honor: “See all this sh*t that I put up with!” And while I do think that tendency is partially due to long term exhaustion, I also think it’s a choice.
I want to start making a different choice.
