We were all falling apart at the seams. One kid was sobbing because there was an update to his tablet (heaven forbid). The other kid was having a full-on mental breakdown because I cut his toast wrong. I’m clearly the worst mom in the world. Then, he started screaming something about Christmas being up his booty (no clue where he came up with that one). I’m not innocent in all this either (but I can say with 10000% certainty there was no Christmas up my booty). The grown-up over here also is also having a full-on “menty b” (this is what the youths say; it’s short for mental breakdown) because the shopper in my delivery order substituted bow tie pasta for elbow macaroni. The audacity! We were all crying out for help in our own way, and I had enough. I declared a lazy day.
We had been on the go for days, weeks, months. Weeknights full of activities, soccer practice, and getting life done, including putting a house on the market. Weekends full of things because there are so many fun things to do, and I have a severe case of FOMO. My body was shutting down. The littlest things were starting to push me over the edge. Did I mention the previous grocery delivery where they substituted cilantro for kale? Complete blow-up, but some of it warranted right?
Earlier this week, I looked at our calendar and realized the upcoming weekend was empty. Well, that can’t be right. It’s my favorite time of year, and so many fall-tastic (I just made that up; feel free to steal it) activities to do! I even told a friend we had nothing planned for the weekend. Her response was, “Are you going to be ok?” I legitimately think she was concerned but also with a hint of sarcasm because she’s my friend, and those are the people I choose to do life with.
That Saturday morning, when our household was blowing up, it was our rock bottom. I declared a lazy day. We weren’t leaving the house that day, there would be zero productivity, and we would feel no shame for the amount of screen time we would accumulate that day.
We stayed in our pajamas, barely left the couch, and even took a family nap. There were several times throughout the day that my inner “Type A” overachiever (can’t stand her sometimes) kept shaming me and making me feel like I needed to do something. I shut her down every time. In full transparency, I did do a couple of loads of laundry. And when I say “do laundry,” I mean washing and drying them. There was no folding and putting them away because I’m not a psycho.
The declared lazy day was glorious! It was exactly what we needed to recharge.
We place such a high value on productivity that, at least for me, I beat myself up when I’m not going at 100% all the time. I realize that my body, my mind, and my kids need to relax sometimes.
Here is your permission to declare a lazy day. Watch movies all day, eat all the snacks, don’t check a single thing off that to-do list. I promise your body will thank you for it and having a day of rest might even prevent a toddler meltdown or two. You’re welcome.
