treat myself well

at not beating myself. Have decided us moms need to start mothering ourselves a little, instead of saving that energy for other people and being awful to ourselves.

Not eating well enough, though.

I have been trying to treat myself well by allowing myself to not be productive.

Now, I am doing stuff, but I am not worrying about all the things I am not doing. And instead of sitting there in an anxiety attack spinning my wheels and worrying and bouncing from thing to thing without being very productive at all, I have been allowing myself to go lay down during the kids’ nap and rest, or read, or draw… things not necessarily getting me somewhere, but things that help me to feel better.

I am letting go of the NEED to be productive to feel good about myself.

The best result of that? My back does not hurt as much.

Another good result? Allowing myself to FEEL some of the anxiety or disappointment or whatever it is, instead of ignoring it and forcing myself to be happy all the time allows me to release the upset a little, making me feel better.

So sometimes, treating yourself well means allowing yourself to feel crappy.

With that, I am intending to make myself some coffee banana smoothies in the morning.

One step towards treating myself well, and feeding myself right, so I have energy and focus.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and maybe if I start eating breakast againg, all the rest of it will fall back into place.

how to eat.

I eat like a college student. Whatever is there, whatever is cheap, whatever is fast and convenient, emphasis on processed and starches. Liberal sprinkling of fat.

I miss eating well balanced meals, but I haven’t figured out how to manage them within the constraints of taking care of the rugrats. Maybe I am a little discouraged also with the youngun’s refusal to eat everything, even stuff he used to love. Second time he’s rejected pizza. What the heck am I supposed to feed him. And chicken? Rejected twice. He ate dry cheerios and raisins tonight.

Aw, see, it always comes back to the kids. I need to feed myself well despite being unable to feed them well. I can only provide food for them, I can’t make him eat. Only have control over that with myself.

I had to change this goal.

I’m just not up to buying stuff right now. Or, that’s not really it—buying things is not the best way for me to take care of myself right now. We are kind of broke, first of all, and second, it would be better for me to do things that make me feel better about myself, rather than buy things that will just make me feel better for a moment.

That’s where I am right now. I might go back to the buying things for myself someday, but not today.

Jeans
Coat
Book

It’s hard not to feel guilty for spending. Christmas coming up, the kids need this or that, the house needs this or that, and I bought stuff for me, two needs, one want.

Okay. I’ll get over the guilt quick. Useless emotion.

by buying small things. Got some hanes underwear. Woohoo. Boycut, which I’ve wanted. Strange how such non-luxury items still remind you to take care of yourself.

I have been noticing that magazines aren’t thrilling me. Maybe because I am busy with writing. Or maybe because my usual house and decorating magazines are just emphasizing the fact that my housing and decorating situation is up in the air. Maybe I’ll look at the fashion magazine I bought and think about what clothes I will buy myself when I finally get my long awaited shopping spree.

two magazines.

I almost bought me some red thinsulated gloves, but I kept thinking “christmas presents!” and did not. Now that I think about it, the magazines were almost half the price, well, one third the price of the gloves. I shoulda got the gloves.

But I did go off on a little mama adventure myself, leaving S with G and sleeping Ivy. It was when we went to dinner. And we went were there was a wall sized projection tv with a football game playing, and I was not pleased. So I took a walk and window shopped.

a bottle of sherry.

I don’t drink that much, but I like to have a glass of something sometimes. Maybe to calm down or whatever. Hard alcohol is usually too much for a regular day. Wine gives me headaches. Liquers are too sweet. Beer is good, but because I don’t buy it that often, it gets finished too soon, and besides, sometimes it’s too filling. Sherry is sippable. And it’s such a granny drink that S won’t drink it.

So it’s all mine.

I bought myself a candy bar this week. I did it consciously. And I didn’t share it.

That’s about as buyingish as I get lately. Part of that is because the staying home thing is part of what I’m doing for myself. Yes, it’s also because I need to care for my kids, but it’s also for me. And I don’t clean my house so that I can write, that’s for me, although it’s not buying. Hey, last week I bought paper plates and bowls. I don’t think it’s what people would consider an indulgent purchase, but it kind of is. I don’t want to wash dishes. I want that time for myself. I want that time for writing. And I am paying for it with the few cents they cost and the guilt over the environment. But there it is. I’m paying with that coin for a little while.