I’m going to interrupt the usual blog post full of photos of Miguel and William to take a minute to clear my brain. Most days I feel as if I am pulled in a million directions and constantly besieged with questions (why is that sign there? where is the taxi going? can I do this or that?), ongoing negotiations with the boys (why can’t they just do something the first time I ask?), and someone always needing something (William’s favorite line is I can’t do it) that I don’t often take time for myself. I don’t eat well, forget to take my vitamins, rarely fit in a workout or a pedicure or lunch with my girlfriends all because I feel this guilt. Mommy guilt. Wife guilt. Whatever kind of guilt you want to call it. GUILT.

Here’s the thing, I’m sitting here blogging when I should be cleaning up the house and I feel guilty. The boys are in bed, Miguel is out with clients, and Sweetie is arriving tomorrow at lunchtime and I have a busy morning of errands. There is a bag of crushed up veggie straws on the living room floor, the garbage disposal did something wonky so my kitchen counter is covered in all the stuff that was under the sink, trains and train tracks are covering the rug in the living room, the half bath smells like little boy pee pee because someone isn’t the best at aiming, and, well, you get the idea.

But, why I do I feel such guilt at taking thirty minutes for myself to blog instead of cleaning? Why do I feel guilty that I’m going to get a pedicure tomorrow morning instead of running all my errands? Why do I feel guilty that I’m contemplating hiring a babysitter for one evening a week so I can start a beginner’s yoga class? Why do I feel guilty all the damn time?

I think it all boils down to somehow along the way an idea that mothers are supposed to be self-less and constantly giving of themselves was instilled in me, and anything other than that meant you weren’t doing right by your children. Don’t get me wrong I love my husband and my children, but I know it is time I started taking a few moments a day for myself so that I will love myself as much as I love them. So, there you have it. My little secret. It’s time to start loving me right after I clean the house tonight.

And, as a reward, of making it through that whining all about me blog post…here’s the boys waiting for the DART train this weekend.