I meet a friend for coffee** a few months back and she asks me how I am. I proceed to tell her all about Hubby's new work schedule and life changes. She repeats, But how are you?
A co-worker asks me how my Thanksgiving was and I turn it around onto her. How was her Thanksgiving? Did she host? How many people? Is that what she usually does?
People ask me if I'm getting excited for Christmas and I go on and on about how excited Sweetie seems to be for both her birthday and Christmas. About all the baking my Hubby hopes to do. And about all the gifts we have to buy for everyone and the places we have to go to see everyone.
Do you see a pattern here?
What? Am I uncomfortable talking about my own feelings? Do I feel I'm not worth my own time of day? Do I have nothing better to do than to concerm myself with the lives and concerns of others?
Well, not that I've ever really thought about it much before now, but, um - yes and no, I guess.
Maybe that's why I fit so comfortably in my role as mom. I'm much more interested in making sure everyone else is happy and safe than taking care of myself.
On the weekends, I sometimes literally forget to eat. But I make darn sure Sweetie gets at least some kind of breakfast, lunch and dinner in her.
I sit down to watch my all time favorite shows - or a special episode I've been waiting to see all week - when Sweetie calls my attention or Hubby asks me for help in the other room. And I tend to their needs. (Oh, sure. I'll probably complain for a minute that I'm missing my show - but I do give it up if need be).
I don't have any problem whatsoever buying gifts for others. Whatever they want - done! It's theirs. But I won't spend a dime on myself. So what if I'm wearing the same jeans from junior high school - the ones with ratty edges and expanding rips and tears? They still fit me just fine - they'll do.*
All I want for Christmas is The Little Mermaid DVD and a new bottle of Poeme perfume. But the perfume is expensive, I know. So whatever. If it doesn't happen - I understand.
Man oh man! What I downer I am! I'm really not as miserable as I'm making myself out to be. I just, for some reason, can't seem to take the time to care about myself as much as I do about the lives of others.
Call it self-sacrificing. Call it altruistic. Call it pitiful. Just whatever you do - don't worry about me. I'm fine. Thanks for asking.
Now, excuse me while I go massage my poor, hard-working Hubby's tired, achy feet. My sty on my eye can manage without one night's worth of warm compress treatments. And my counted-cross stitch can wait. I'm sure I can't finish it by Christmas Day anyway.
So, how are you?
* For the record, I did buy myself a few new pairs of jeans this summer. All from Coldwater Creek. All on clearance. And, at first, they were all great. But I quickly saw the truth of the matter - they were high waisted, unflattering Mom Jeans - every pair... and yet I proudly wore the Mommiest pair when I went for that coffee to meet my friend.** How cool am I?