Before I had children, I used to go to the hairdresser. This was known as “getting a haircut.”
Now, I am a parent and I still go to the hairdresser, but this is considered “me time.” It’s essentially the same thing, but now the act of hair shortening is supposed to be some sort of treat.
Well, I’m sorry, but going to a hair salon and staring at my own miserable face for 45 minutes while I’m made to look presentable is not my idea of a treat.
Having a bath is not “me time” either no matter how many candles and bubbles there are. A bath is just a way to wash your hair while sitting down. And while you’re in the bath, the children are still out there making noise and messes and smells while Daddy is in charge, so try not to relax too much.
Reading a magazine and drinking coffee is certainly no “me time.” Administering caffeine while finding out what Kim Kardashian’s butt has been up to is just the correct way to start the day. Oh, and when I’m on the toilet and I close the door? That’s definitely not “me time.” I’m taking a dump.
As far as I’m concerned, “me time” is a massive crock of shit. Stop trying to make basic maintenance something special. I’m using the restroom, not spending a week at a yoga retreat.
A recent survey claimed that new mothers have on average just 17 minutes of “me time” a day.
“Me time” is not for moms. I’m speaking from personal experience here—as a mom the last person I want to spend 17 minutes with is myself. My life is boring; I don’t need time to reflect on that.
When you are young and free all your time is me time. That’s how life works. Everything is about you – this is because you are bright and happy and make dumb decisions in life which result in you having to climb out of a tiny bathroom window in the middle of a really bad date with a man who may or may not be joking about spending time in prison.
Things like this do not happen once you are a mom. (I hope.)
Once you’re a parent, someone else does all the stupid things while you make sensible decisions and worry about speech development and chicken pox.
In Britain, we love reality shows like The Only Way Is Essex and Made in Chelsea which feature young, single people making terrible life decisions. (In terms of American shows, think The Real World or The Hills.)
The stars of these shows need “me time” to reflect on the many ways they have been wronged, told off, or generally “disrespected.” They can then use this time to arrange nights out where they can throw drinks in other people’s faces which is apparently the best way to regain respect should you ever find yourself being told off or disrespected.
I fear for these people when they have children.
Being a parent involves being told off and disrespected on an hourly basis. I have tried throwing drinks in my children’s faces, but it is simply a waste of pinot noir.
So, as far as I’m concerned, as a mom you can stick your “me time” where I stick my children’s artwork—in the recycling bin.