Winter, school and children inevitably means that at some point, if you are a parent, you are going to get sick. Taylin was struck first, vomiting followed by fever and then an awful cold and bad chest. Theo quickly followed just as I was starting to feel under the weather followed promptly by Daddy. This was a week and a half ago. Being ill at the same time as your children sucks; when all you want to do is curl up in a ball but you are up and down cleaning sheets, refilling water bottles, doing little errands to pick up medicine and still keep on top of work (the joys of being self employed) your body has little time to recuperate. The children quickly recovered but with reports due for work there was no time for more time off for me. Back to school they went and back to the routine of juggling school runs, clubs and work. 

Theo has been having play therapy sessions with me at school- he has been very emotional and acting out, the anxiety that comes with being a younger sibling to a child with special needs bearing fruit. I raised my concerns with the school and they offered to pay for the sessions, it was also a chance for the play therapist to trial a new method of play therapy for the school, VIG (video interaction guidance.) I attend play sessions with him that are filmed and his interactions with me scrutinised via recorded playback. It’s actually reassuring to see the bond between us evident and it’s a joy to see how happy he is in my company. We meet with the play therapist on Thursdays, the one just gone was a meeting to review the sessions, so it was one on one time for me and the play therapist. Now, with not having any time off I am feeling dreadful. My chest is heavy, my body is exhausted. And I’ve had the usual drama with Taylin at school- she’s thrown a book at the teaching assistant, she’s refusing to work, she‘s been sent to the deputy head, again.

The Thursday school run was stressful. But it’s not Taylin this time, it’s Theo. He has been constantly demanding food recently (no, it’s not worms!) I think it’s a source of comfort for him (let’s be honest it is for us adults most of the time!) When he asked me if he could have some more food, after he’d already had his cereal, a yoghurt, an apple and a banana- in the space of ten minutes, I had to put my foot down. Again, as often happens in our household, he exhibits behaviours he’s learned from the master of meltdowns, his sister, Taylin. He begins to scream at me, in my face, before his hand makes contact with one big whack. I’m beaten. “Have another damn banana,” is about to come out of mouth. No. I’m the adult. So I parent, as best as I can and get them into school, with screaming and bickering between the two of them the whole way in.

To the play therapist I go, coughing and sniffling and already feeling like a failure of a parent, ready to have my parenting put under the microscope. We are working together to try to make Theo feel more secure. The play therapist feels that his controlling behaviours (food must not touch, cushions must be just so and rules are so rigidly important that if he feels anyone has broken one he will burst into tears) and outbursts are due to him not feeling secure in the family- through all the outbursts from his sister, the extra attention she seems to receive over him, my hours of work being a tad all over the place. We watch the video footage from last week. Again, our relationship is beautifully played out; we laugh together, we put on voices and use our imaginations to create our own little world. I watch as the play therapist points out moments from the footage. “What can you see there?” She asks. I answer. It’s clear we are close, clear that we want to be together and that my attention is all his. “So, Mum, how can you make sure he feels that you are more present all the time?” I feel my throat swell. I am doing my best! I give the answers I know she wants to hear and then I stop. My hands go to my face and I’m done. “To be honest, I can’t even think about being more present when I’m so tired, I’m just so drained!” I exclaim, immediately feeling like I’ve let him down. 

The play therapist turns towards me. “Who looks after you?” She asks. I’m flustered. I don’t need looking after. I’m too busy to be looked after. I say the words millions of mothers say everyday even though it isn’t really true, “I’m fine.” Let’s be clear, I wasn’t fine. 

We talked, well, she talked, I listened. She asked whether I take time for self care. I couldn’t really answer. I took a day off a couple of weeks ago but there was so much that needed doing that I still went and did a food shop, called the council, chased a few payments and did some more errands. It wasn’t really a day off… And I know I need one. This year has been the busiest year for me work-wise and we have had the usual family drama to go with it. Including moving home just three months ago. 

And I feel guilty, self care feels indulgent when the needs of my family are so great. When I must work more, make more money, try to better our lives. But then one of the statements the therapist made keeps repeating in my mind. “How can you be more present for your children and manage work when you are running on empty.” And the penny drops. To take care of them, of my business, I have to start taking care of me. But I’m not sure where to start. I rarely spend money on myself, I’d rather spend money on their needs than my own. Does self care need to cost money? What little things can I do to make sure there is fuel in my tank and that emotionally I am strong? My usual go to is to run but with this illness lingering that hasn’t been an option. And another outlet for me has always been being creative… but then since my work is all about being creative is that really me taking time out?

So this blog post is ending with questions rather than answers and hopefully by the time I write the next one I’ll have it all figured out, or at least some of it. How can I fit in self care, without the guilt? Answers on a postcard please.