The following is a guest post from momAgenda COMM blogger Kim-Marie Evans.
It’s such a cliché right?
Put yourself first. You can’t take care of anyone else unless you take care of you.
This is what we all tell each other, but never practice ourselves.
And then I collapsed. At the Central Park Zoo.
Of course I hadn’t eaten all day so I jammed a nasty burger in my mouth while entertaining my 6 year-old and rushing to the sea lion show. Next thing I knew I was headed for the hospital. Who knew I had a gallbladder full of angry stones? I was scheduled for surgery the next day and my “to-do list” was whittled to one item: get well.
Did I mention I couldn’t even get a signal in the ER? No tweeting, Facebooking, answering e-mails, checking in, pinning, posting or even old fashioned phone calling.
The next 36 hours were a blur of morphine and Jerry Springer. When I finally went home I gave myself a full three days to recover before I headed out on my next trip. It was a press trip to cover the inaugural cruise of the newest Disney ship. How could I miss that? Plus, it was on my list, therefore, it must be done.
So I went to Florida, and I collapsed again.
As my girlfriend said, “I hate it when God has to yell.”
Clearly I wasn’t getting the message.
It’s time to put myself first.
Why is it so hard for us moms to take care of ourselves? Why do we make sure everyone else has homemade organic lunches, bubble baths and a good night’s sleep while we survive on a combination of coffee, Advil, and anxiety?
So I’ve spent the last week acting like a man (feel free to send hate mail boys, I can take it). I order take out, lay on the couch a lot and generally let the chaos pile up around me. Yesterday I watched four movies in a row, then I took a nap.
Guess what? Nobody died. I’m so relaxed, I’m not sure I’d notice if they did.
As God is my witness, “I” will be at the top of my to-do list from now on. And yes, I plan to use this as an excuse to ditch that whole “budget, sex, homemade dinner” resolution. I mean, God was yelling – so who am I to argue?