This morning, as I finished brushing my teeth with Sparkle Fun toothpaste after my kids squeezed my pricey $5 grown up toothpaste into the sink, I thought it might be a good day for a "me" day.
I don't mean a usual "me" day where I sit and scroll through TikTok for two hours and feign surprise when dinner prep time passes me by. "Oh, my! Where has the time gone? Well it's too late to make anything now."
I mean a "me" day where I actually spend time doing all the things I want to do but never make time for. You know, all the things only rich ladies with nannies do like their hair, yoga, or lunch sitting down. Or maybe I could spend a day revisiting my neglected hobbies like... reading or...um...what the heck did I do before I had to do things?
I used to think my tendency to put off my own wants was a martyr habit, but now I think it's more of an energy-saving mechanism or an unhealthy need to blow off something, anything in my life without a chorus of whine starting up like some kind of Oompa Loompa lesson in how I should be spending my time. I have enough puzzles to deal with without your musical moral interjections, Loompas! And most of them are missing pieces.
Yes, I must find some kind of satisfaction in blowing myself off, because I keep doing it. I hardly realize it's happening until I find myself staring down my Skechers slip-on sneakers thinking there might be other shoe styles out there or browsing Women's T-shirts at Family Dollar with intent to purchase or squeezing Sparkle Fun onto my Sonicare despite it tasting neither sparkly nor fun.
From now on, I think I'm going to try to put a little more "me" in every day because, when my kids grow up and turn leftover hamburger buns into French toast, "just like momma used to make it," I hope they know their momma loved them and herself, too. And when they forget the recipe, I hope they call me and get my voicemail because I'm in Fiji and they should know how to make Momma's Janky French Toast by now.