Me Time. Interrupted…

Me Time. I hate that phrase, it’s so loaded and expectant like it wants you to say you crochet blankets for blind puppies in your spare time. I’m not that sort. I love to read but it’s not often I get to, I love to bake but usually it’s driven my necessity rather than fun, I love to spend time with friends but these days finding dates that work is like putting together a blank jigsaw. I don’t do anything high minded or wonderfully important and I don’t schedule ‘me time’.

Before you all jump at me, I know, I should. Mentally, emotionally, physically it’s all important but that fact is that I run a business, a home, I have two school aged kids and I’m an consummate people pleaser… there’s barely enough hours as it is.

So I take my ‘me time’ - going to start calling it headspace because it’s less of a loaded, guilty term for me- where I can. When I’m driving I try not to make calls so my brain can clear a bit, when I’m showering because, bliss, the door locks and I can’t do anything else (she says lending on the tiles, half out of the water writing this blog) and when I’m cooking. I enjoy the cooking process, there are steps and it’s simple and I can zone out.

Except.

Except my lovely son whom I adore has developed a love for cooking. I thoroughly support this, it’s a brilliant life skill and it makes me happy so I’m all in for that.

But.

But he wants to help. Every day. He’s not bad, a little slow and a little haphazard but he’s not burning down the kitchen or anything.

And.

And he talks, not asking questions but commentating his every move. It’s actually quite cute but it’s a lot.

So.

So nothing really, I love my kids and I’m happy if they’re happy, I’ll take my headspace sipping a wine whilst he chops.

I think what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t always have to be like the memes, the blogs, the inspirational quotes. Sometimes we just take our peace where we find it and muddle through the best we can. With or without the interruptions.