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I am still human.

And basically this means that I still need time to feel like I am a human being, which means that I need down time, or, a term that I loathe, "Me time." I need time to be who I am, and I need time to not want the rest of the world to just take a time out. There should be no guilt for my wanting to wind down with a glass of wine, a good book, a good cry.

But the world wants me, and others like me, to not take some time off everyday. The world wants me to be like that stupid bunny on the battery commercial, and the world wants me to continue to meet its every need without thinking about my own needs. We all have the need to just be, and when I am wiping noses and kissing boo-boos, there is no one else in the world more important to me than that crying, heaving little person whose entire world is wrapped around his very sore little knee that is not more than just a bump in his pride.

Then there are those other "kids", the ones who seem to lose all sense of time and energy when they hit the door after work. All those "kids" want is a beer, a sandwich, the remote and my time and energy, because now it is his time to unwind. Well, at the end of his day he gets to come home.I never leave my office, and my office never leaves me.

I used to feel guilty about taking time for myself. Then one day it finally hit me like a ton of bricks - I have not always been a wife and a mother. In fact, I used to be a human instead of a super human. It seems that when the doctor says "I CAN SEE THE HEAD!" the Universe somehow shifts in the direction that says you are now enslaved by this new little person and your guilt. Well, that isn't fair, not at all, and if you are believing this lie, then you are just as bad as the rest of the non-mom people, the ones who want us to keep on going without the benefit of sleep, food, sex, and mostly, sanity. Everyone else on the planet gets the day off. Hell, even God took a day off, but not moms. Nope. Never.

So, the next time that you are feeling guilty for sitting down with a big old carton of ice cream, dressed in the same sweats and the same two day old sweat, in front of some God awful television program where the wives all hail from a county called Orange, who are totally NOT housewives, who seem to live the lives that are only seen in soap operas, and who, by any account, could never do our day, not even for half the day, know now that you are in your right mind when you think that you deserve a few minutes to yourself, that you deserve the entire damned tub of ice cream, that you deserve to sit there and wallow in the filth made up of bleach and pine cleaner and resentment. You've earned it. There are no rules to this that were made by people who know what you go through. There only is expectation, and none of it coming from you!

Never have guilt over needing to feel like a human being, because if you were to ask that large kid drinking a beer and whining about how much he hates his job, challenge him to trade places with you for one day, and I promise you that there will never be another guilty day in your life!

Breathe, girl...you're only human.

Learn more about this author, Roxanne Cottell.
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