I spent the weekend in Seven Springs with my mom, my dad, and my sister. And the girls, of course. (DearDR drove up after his patients on Saturday.)
It was exhausting, as per usual. But Bun knows how to swim now, and Monkey really enjoyed her new goggles, and we spent lots on tokens for arcade games to win tickets so my children could buy junk. All-in-all a very successful weekend. Although I did not get nearly enough sleep.
I had an illuminating conversation with my parents that I’ve been mulling over. It was about marriage and parenting, and the work of it all. And I’m kind of curious about what my Internet peeps think. My father said, at one point, “One thing that I don’t understand is when people your age talk about ‘me’ time.”
For people, read ‘parents’, and for ‘my age’, read thirtysomething.
He continued, “There is no more ‘me’ time. That’s over.”
I did not offer anything back to this observation, and I don’t necessarily disagree. Especially as it comes to parenting. But at the same time, I think “me” time doesn’t have to completely, irrecoverably end, forever and ever, amen.
If it did, I would not go on Girlie Weekend or Spa Day. I would not have the occasional shopping day all by myself. I would not, at the end of the day, spend time with a book.
Should I give those things up? If so, why? If not, why not? Does my father have a point? Do people “my age” feel a sense of entitlement to “me time”? Should that be put on hold while we’re raising our kids? What do you think?
Red Pen Mama 