Apparently Self-Care Is Getting My Teeth Cleaned Now

Somewhere along the way, self-care became deeply unsexy.

I used to think it meant pedicures, brunch, buying something I absolutely did not need, maybe wandering around Winners alone with an iced coffee and no particular destination. It meant doing something indulgent because I deserved it, or because I was bored, or because it was Tuesday and I had somehow convinced myself that a new candle counted as personal growth.

Now, apparently, self-care is getting my teeth cleaned.

And I wish I were kidding.

I had a dentist appointment the other day and, in true mother fashion, I had already mentally calculated exactly how much time I could spare. I did not have time for the full workup. I did not have time for anything elaborate. I had somewhere else to be, someone else to drive, something else to remember, and probably three loads of laundry silently judging me from another room.

But for that little chunk of time, nobody needed me.

Nobody asked me what was for dinner. Nobody needed a ride. Nobody yelled “Mum?” from another floor and then mysteriously disappeared when I answered. Nobody needed help finding the thing that was directly in front of them. Nobody asked me where their water bottle was, whether I had washed their hockey socks, if I knew where their charger went, or whether I could “just quickly” do something that would absolutely not be quick.

I was lying back in a chair while another adult took care of me.

Sure, she was scraping plaque off my teeth, but honestly, we take what we can get.

There was something almost luxurious about being unavailable. My phone was not in my hand. I could not answer anyone. I could not multitask. I could not start another load of laundry while also replying to an email while also making a grocery list while also trying to remember which child needed to be where that evening.

I just had to lie there.

That was the assignment.

And I nailed it.

This is where I think motherhood gets a little ridiculous, because somewhere in the process of becoming the person who remembers everything for everyone, you slowly become the person who forgets herself. Not in some dramatic movie-scene way where you stare sadly out a rainy window and wonder who you are anymore. It is much less cinematic than that. It is realizing you have rescheduled your own appointment three times because someone had practice. It is noticing that you have bought everyone else new shoes while your own are somehow from a completely different era. It is saying, “I’ll do it next week” about things you need until next week becomes next month and then, somehow, next year.

You get used to being the last name on the list.

And the wild part is that nobody necessarily asks you to do that. Sometimes we just become so good at holding everything together that we keep adding more things to hold. We become the keeper of appointments, schedules, passwords, permission forms, tournament dates, grocery lists, birthdays, dentist appointments and the exact location of objects that somehow become invisible to every other person in the house.

Then someone tells us we need more self-care.

Great.

When?

Should I pencil that in between hockey and the Costco run? Is there a Tuesday in November where nobody needs a dentist appointment, a ride, a costume, a lunch packed, a form signed or a minor emotional crisis handled before bedtime?

I would love to take a spa day. Truly. I would also love to live in a house where everyone replaces the toilet paper roll without needing a public service announcement, but here we are.

So maybe self-care in this season is going to look a little less glamorous.

Maybe it is getting my teeth cleaned.

Maybe it is sitting in my car for ten extra minutes after I get home because I am listening to a good song and nobody knows I am in the driveway yet.

Maybe it is wandering through a store alone. Maybe it is getting my nails done. Maybe it is saying no to something because I do not actually have the energy to go. Maybe it is ordering takeout and not pretending I had a dinner plan all along.

Maybe it is finding small, ordinary ways to remind myself that I am also a person who lives here.

I think that is the part I am trying to get better at. Not waiting until I am completely burnt out before deciding I probably deserve a minute. Not treating every single thing I do for myself as something that needs to be earned after everyone else has been fed, driven, organized, supported and tucked neatly into place.

Because there is always going to be something else to do.

The laundry is never actually finished. The calendar will never suddenly become empty. There will always be another practice, another appointment, another grocery run, another email, another thing somebody forgot until approximately eleven minutes before they need it.

If I wait for the magical moment when everything is handled before I take care of myself, I am going to be waiting until the children are grown and I am living alone in a silent house wondering why I still instinctively buy six different kinds of cereal.

So yes, I got my teeth cleaned.

No, I did not have time for the full workup.

But for that little while, nobody needed anything from me. I was horizontal. I was unreachable. Another adult was in charge.

Frankly, I understand the wellness industry now.