Somewhere between raising kids, managing a house, building a career, remembering everyone else's lives and trying to have one of my own, I became the person everyone asks. And I'm tired.
I swear they can smell when you sit down.
I don't know if this is scientifically proven, but if you're a mom, you know.
You can be standing in the kitchen for 45 minutes.
Nothing.
Nobody needs anything.
You wipe the counter. Switch the laundry. Answer a text. Let the dog out. Put something away. Let the dog back in because apparently, we've decided doors are revolving now.
Nothing.
Then you sit down.
Maybe you have coffee.
Maybe you open your laptop.
Maybe, God forbid, you decide you're going to do absolutely nothing for seven minutes.
“Mom?”
There it is.
It's like a summoning spell.
And yes, my kids are grown.
IT STILL HAPPENS.
But it's not really about being interrupted.
That's the funny part.
Because if we're being completely truthful, someday I'd probably give anything to hear “Mom?” one more time.
That's motherhood for you.
Please stop needing me. Also, never stop needing me.
Completely reasonable.
But there's something underneath the interruptions that I don't think we talk about enough.
Women become the keepers of everything.
Not just mothers.
Women.
We know when the toilet paper is getting low.
We know someone's birthday is next Thursday.
We know which kid hates that one brand of ranch dressing.
We know the dog needs his medication.
We know the permission slip is due.
We know the appointment needs to be scheduled.
We know someone needs new shoes.
We know what we're having for dinner or at least we know that someone is eventually going to ask us.
And when somebody can't find something?
Apparently, we have been appointed Supreme Finder of Shit.
“Where's my charger?”
I don't know, babe. Have you tried LOOKING?
It's the invisible list.
That's the part that gets me.
There are the things we physically do.
And then there are the approximately 4,732 things quietly running in the background of our brains.
Call dentist.
Buy dog food.
Text Mom.
Move laundry.
Pay bill.
Did she ever make that appointment?
We need milk.
I need to answer that email.
What day is that thing?
I forgot to order that.
Why does my back hurt?
Did I take the chicken out?
And then someone walks into the room and asks:
“What are you thinking about?”
Sir.
How much time do you have?
And somewhere on that list is us.
Usually near the bottom.
Drink more water.
Exercise.
Schedule your own appointment.
Read the book.
Call your friend.
Work on the thing you've been dreaming about.
Rest.
Whatever that means.
We're told constantly that we need to make time for ourselves.
I love that advice.
Where exactly is this time kept?
Is there an aisle at Target?
Because I'll grab some while I'm there buying the 19 things everyone else needs.
I don't think women need another lecture about self-care.
I think sometimes we need permission to admit:
I'm tired of being needed today.
Not forever.
Not because we don't love our people.
Not because we're ungrateful.
Not because we wouldn't move mountains for them.
Just…
today.
Today I don't want to answer another question.
Today I don't want to make another decision.
Today I don't want to figure out what's for dinner.
Today I don't want to know where your charger is.
And apparently saying that out loud is controversial.
Because women are supposed to love caring for people.
And many of us do.
We can love people deeply and still get tired of taking care of everybody.
Both things can be true.
So… I need a minute.
There it is.
Not a spa weekend.
Not a $300 wellness retreat.
Not a 14-step morning routine beginning at 4:30 a.m.
A minute.
Coffee that's still hot.
A shower without someone needing something.
Sitting in the car for an extra five minutes after getting home.
Going to Target alone and wandering around like it's a museum.
Closing the bedroom door.
Putting the phone down.
Not answering immediately.
Whatever your minute looks like.
Take the damn minute.
Okay, fine.
Take the minute.
My mom would like everyone to know we're keeping this brand family-friendly.
And if someone needs you during it?
They'll probably survive.
Unless they can't find their charger.
In which case, obviously, civilization has collapsed.
SO… this is life.
And I'm going to finish my coffee before somebody needs me.