Alone

I have something I would like to get off my chest: I love my alone time. 

The other day I stayed home from work sick. I slept the morning away, making way for my body to mend itself. I lounged in the living room watching movies that my husband didn't want to watch. I ate meals freely without little hands reaching for a portion. 

I was miserable yet very happy. 

I hate that it took a sick day to show that I have missed having moments to be alone. 

Truthfully, I need it. I didn't know how much I needed it.  

Then the other day my friend sent me a link to an article from ScarryMommy.com called, "The Struggle of the Introverted Mother." It rang a chord deep in my chest. It made me sad to read about myself in this way. In a way it almost made me feel inadequate as a mother. 

Why is it that as mothers, we are wired with the belief that the moment those little rascals come into this world that all our attention, energy, and time should be devoted to them - and if it is not we are bad mothers. 

Why?

I have neglected my own needs out of guilt. And I know better. I have blogged about it. 

I think it's time I really start following my own advice.