Securing Your Mask

“Secure your oxygen mask before assisting others.”

I heard that phrase three times this weekend. Once on the flight up to Boston, once on the flight back down to Tampa and once over dinner with my best friend. I was in Boston to see her and her family. She just had a beautiful baby girl three months prior and I was finally able to get myself north to meet her.

But over dinner, away from our children, wearily clinking our glasses together – we talked about putting ourselves first.

“I like to think of what they say on airlines before you take off. You know, secure your own mask before helping anyone else.”

She was explaining that if we don’t make sure we have ourselves taken care of, we can’t care for anyone else. And these were wise words coming from the mother of a brilliant and busy two year old and fabulous but fussy three month old. It seemed an enormous gift when she could pass me her littlest one just so that she could shower, just so that she could finish her plate of food, just so that she could be quiet in her space for a moment.

Granted, her words of advice are ones I suppose know on some level already. After seven years as a mother, I thoroughly understand that parents need to have time for themselves before they can care for their families. I get that. I do. But do I apply that advice very often? Does my husband? Does any parent?

When my boys were born, I got used to back burnering so much of my own indulgence. But so much more back burnering followed. Even the most basic functions can get ignored – and you know what I’m talking about here. Raise your hand if you’ve peed and fed your baby at the same time. (Don’t look at me like that. I’m just keeping it real here, folks.)

While considering this whole concept of putting yourself first now and then this weekend, I also happened to get sick. It was certainly ironic. Away from my family and responsibilities, I managed to pack it up, lose my voice (NOT COOL while with my BFF) and spend more time on her couch than out and about in Boston.

And that was fine because I was able to spend plenty of time with her girls, which is why I was there in the first place. (Disregard the germs I probably spread all over their home however… guilt guilt guilt.)

But once I arrived here in Tampa and jumped back into my role as mom, I faltered a bit. My chest cold had settled in for the long haul and (…I could insert a story here about how I dozed off on my 3 year old who decided not to be potty trained while I snoozed but I’ll spare you those details…) I was not functioning so well. So my husband, who is running on a work treadmill at full speed right now, had to find a way to get back home and care for the boys for one more day.

Sure, I put myself first. But only because I had to. And let me tell you – lying in bed while my boys were fed and homeworked and put to bed was strangely surreal. (Or maybe the Nyquil had yet to wear off.) Regardless, there is always a trade off. My husband had to desert his full speed treadmill at work for the time being, let alone find any time to focus on his own needs.

(I wonder when he ever secures his own mask? While I may be putting my kids first most of the time, he is putting work AND our kids first all of the time. Does his commute to and from work count as his alone time, his time to breath and refuel his brain again? I’m not so sure.)

This balance is something we all need to work out better. It is very easy to set your own needs aside because you aren’t going to get whined at or voicemailed incessantly until you DO pay attention to yourself.

(Imagine if you did though. Imagine if your child threatened a temper tantrum if you didn’t go outside and sit in that lounge chair with a book RIGHT NOOOOOWWWW!!!! I bet we’d do it without any arguments.)

I’m not sure I have any recommendations here. Because while I know we all need our time to regroup and recharge – I don’t always. And I don’t know how to insist that we do this every time. Or if we realistically can do it every time. But we can try to do it some of the time at least. And remind ourselves how much better off everyone might be if we did.

Now, if I could only figure out how get the airplane’s exit door open too, and that fun bouncy slide to eject, and then hurl myself and my husband wheeeeeee off the plane and onto a beach in Tahiti.

Baby steps. Oxygen first. THEN Tahiti.