Years ago I heard an interview on TV with actress Terry Hatcher of Desperate Housewives fame. I must admit I have never watched that show and Ms. Hatcher is not normally the type of person I would look to for advice on life, but something she said in that interview I thought profound and have tried to live by since. She was explaining that she no longer eats burnt toast. Much more a philosophical realization than a dietary rule that she explained. As a mother, she realized that for a long time she would sacrifice herself for the sake of putting her children first. Toast was an example, when she made it for her family if one of the pieces was burnt instead of making one of her children eat it she would eat it herself. Upon looking at her life in general, she found that she often put herself and her needs last behind that of her family. At one point in her life she decided that she would treat herself with the same standards as she did her family. If it wasn’t fit for them to eat, she wouldn’t either.
Now, I know as a mother of three that there are times that out of necessity I put off getting something I need or doing something I want to do because a need for one of the kids is more pressing and I am not talking about that. I am talking about being a martyr. When my children who are all only eighteen months apart were younger, I was often at home alone with them for weeks at a time as my husband travelled a lot for work. At the time, we lived at the end of a road that dead ended into a state park in the forest so we were relativity isolated. My life revolved around the keeping the house up, bills paid, septic system unclogged [still remember many times laying in the dirt with my arm holding a wire hanger shoved up the septic pipe trying to unclog it while my husband was out-of-town with three small children asking what I was doing] children schooled, and life rolling in general. A wonderful girlfriend of mine would often call from “town” just 30 miles away and invite me to join her and some friends for dinner or a girl’s night out to which I often politely declined. Another time she called and offered to watch kids so that my husband and I could go on a date. I assured her that he and I found plenty of time to spend together talking by the fire or walking down by the river, and that we didn’t need to leave the house and spend a lot of money on some “date.” Instead of the response I am sure I was hoping to hear of, “How do you do it all?” or “I wish I could be the unselfish wife and mother you are,” I got something I wasn’t ready for. “you’re a martyr, and you need to stop it.” What did she say, a martyr? I couldn’t believe she was being so harsh with me. Being the gentle but accountable friend that she was, she went on to explain that I was wrong. She assured me that even the best of moms need some time away from their children to regroup and come back even better. She enticed me with the idea of stimulating my mind with adult conversation. She even predicted that things might spice up a bit with my husband if he saw me in high heels dressed up to go out with him for the night instead of those dirty hiking boots ready for a walk in the woods. She was right, on all accounts.
It’s so difficult in this economy and when things are tight to not fall back into eating that burnt toast! Of course I need new running shoes, but both boys are about to start track so maybe I should get their shoes first and put mine on hold. I do have two inches of new growth on my hair and the grey hairs are shining through, but I can just buy another eight dollar box of color from the drugstore and call it good, after all my daughter is starting to look like “Cousin It” from the Munsters and I should get her hair done first…
My husband walked in the kitchen earlier this week when I was debating about spending the money to go to the doctor for the knee I have injured and spoke with love and resolve three little words that centered my world, “No burnt toast!” He is right, my friend was right, and even Ms. Hatcher was right. I do myself no favors when I move myself to the bottom of the list. If I become bitter and resentful to those I love because I haven’t taken care of myself and have yet again become the martyr, I do them no favors. So to all wives and mothers out there changing diapers, running kids to activities, working all day outside of the home and trying to keep it together in the home, finding time to be romantic with your husband, and making time for your friends, don’t forget to take care of you.
Trashing the toast,
Girl40
