"Why did you tell the kids we could stay another hour? They were already exhausted.”

Avi looked at her, genuinely confused. “They were having such a good time. I thought letting them stay another hour was the right call.”

Tova shook her head, exasperated. “And since then Chaya’s been crying, Yitzy and Shloimy have been fighting, everyone’s starving, and now we still have an hour drive back. That extra hour was a disaster.” 

It was almost six o’clock on a blazing August afternoon, and the amusement park parking lot seemed to stretch forever. Tova could feel sweat running down the back of her neck under her sheitel, which by this point felt less like hair and more like a fur coat.

Avi slammed the trunk shut. “Can we please not argue about every single thing?”

Tova stared at him. Me? I’m the one arguing about everything?

But the truth was, they had been bickering all week.

About when to leave. Where to eat. Whether the kids needed a break. Whether they should squeeze in one more activity. Every little decision seemed to turn into a disagreement, and every little thing Avi did seemed to get under her skin.

Tova was exhausted.

For four days she had been packing snacks, remembering sunscreen, making plans, changing plans, answering questions and trying to make vacation fun for everyone.

This was supposed to be the relaxing part of summer...the break from carpools, camps, work and schedules.

Instead, after days of shlepping, heat, cranky children and constant decisions, she felt more depleted than when they had left.

All she wanted was her own bed.

And yet, as they pulled out of the parking lot, another thought hit her.

I don’t even want to go home.

Because home wasn’t exactly restful either.  Summer wasn’t even close to over.

And through all of it, Tova was trying to keep up with her job.

She would drop off the kids, answer an email at a red light, take a call while waiting for another, and arrive at her computer already feeling as if she'd worked a full day.

Now August had arrived, and instead of seeing the finish line, she saw the next wave coming.

Uniforms.  Shoes.  School supplies.  Forms.  Doctor and dentist appointments.

And looming right behind the first day of school was Yom Tov.

Tova kept telling herself, Just get through this week.  But every week seemed to hand her another list.

When Tova came to our coaching session, she was focused on why did her husband have to be so irritating. Why did everything he said or did set her off?

“I feel like such a grouch,” she told me.

She didn’t realize how much of what she was feeling had less to do with Avi and more to do with how completely depleted she was.

When I mentioned self-care, she actually laughed.  “Maybe in November I'll have a few minutes.”

And that was exactly the problem.

To Tova, self-care sounded like one more thing she was supposed to somehow fit into a life that already had no room.

Go exercise. Take a bath. Meet a friend. Get more sleep.

Sounds amazing.

When?

She didn't need another assignment. She needed something that could work in the life she actually had.

So I asked her a different question.

“What did you do this week to nourish yourself aside from grabbing a danish?”

Tova went quiet.  She had done plenty. But something that actually gave something back to her?

She couldn't think of one thing.  

That was when she began to see her irritability differently.

Maybe she didn't need to work harder at being patient with Avi and the kids.

Maybe she had simply been giving from an empty tank for too long.

And self-care didn't have to mean finding an hour that didn't exist. It could mean looking for the tiny spaces she was currently giving away automatically.

Just tiny moments when she stopped asking, What does everyone need from me? and began noticing, What do I need right now? 

The next afternoon, Tova miraculously arrived five minutes early for camp pickup. Her instinct was to answer emails.

Instead, she leaned the driver's seat back, turned on music she loved, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Five intentional minutes of self-care.

Another morning she set her alarm and got up a coupe minutes earlier, made an iced coffee and sat outside before everyone started calling for her rather than realizing at noon that she hadn't taken one deep breath all day.

One evening, Chaya, Yitzy and Shloimy were outside and Avi was on the phone. The kitchen needed cleaning and there was a mountain of laundry upstairs.

Tova took a book onto the porch and rocked the baby in her stroller for ten minutes. 

Somehow, nobody seemed to notice her absence. 

On Sunday, the family was at a local playground. It was hot and the kids were complaining and Avi said, “Forget it. Let's just go.”

Tova felt the familiar irritation rise.

Of course. I plan the whole day and now he wants to leave.

She was about to say it when she noticed something.

She was starving.  Her head hurt.  She had barely had anything to drink.

Maybe Avi wasn't actually the problem.

“I need to eat something,” Tova said.

Instead of pushing through the rest of the afternoon, they scrapped the plan and took the kids for ice cream somewhere cool.

And surprisingly, Tova was fine with it.  The day hadn’t gone the way she had planned, but once she was no longer overheated and depleted, she didn’t feel annoyed at Avi for changing course.  She could just enjoy the ice cream with everyone.

And Tova couldn't stop thinking about how easily that moment could have become another fight.

Nothing in her marriage had changed in those twenty minutes.

She had.

Not because she used some complicated communication technique. She had simply noticed how she felt before demanding more from herself. 

When she gave herself even a few minutes to stop, she was less likely to explode over the next small inconvenience.   When she was running on empty, every little thing felt harder. Avi’s questions felt more annoying. The kids’ complaints felt more relentless. Small changes in the plan felt like one more thing she had to deal with.

Once Tova saw that, self-care stopped feeling like one more thing she was supposed to squeeze into an already impossible schedule. It became a way to give herself the chance to be her best self.

So instead of asking, Where am I going to find time for self-care? she started asking,  How do I feel and what do I want right now?

Sometimes the answer was going to bed with the laundry still unfolded. Sometimes it was calling a friend during carpool. Sometimes it was spending an extra two minutes in the shower. 

Nothing dramatic.

Just small moments when she remembered that she was also one of the people in the family who needed care.

A week later, Avi said, “I'm going to take the kids out Sunday morning. Why don't you stay home?”

Tova’s first reaction wasn’t relief. It was guilt.

How can I stay home while he takes all of them? That feels so selfish.

And it was one of the last Sundays of summer. The boys were still off. Shouldn’t she be spending the day with them while she still had the chance?

Then came the worry.

Can Avi even handle everyone by himself? What if he forgets to feed them and they come home cranky and I’m the one dealing with the fallout?

But then she caught herself.  “That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

Sunday morning, the door closed behind them. There were school supplies to order and dishes in the sink.

Tova crawled back into bed and took a nap anyway.

When Avi came home a couple of hours later, he looked at her.  “You look relaxed.”

She smiled.

There were still two weeks until school started.  But Tova had stopped waiting for Cheshvan to feel like herself again.

Sometimes self-care in a busy season isn't escaping your life or finding hours that don't exist.

It's finding small places inside the life you already have where you get to matter too.

If you're reading this and thinking:  This is exactly how I feel… I’m depleted, easily annoyed, and I don’t feel like myself anymore, you don't have to figure it out alone.

I'd love to support you.

You can schedule a Free Marriage Breakthrough Call with me.

Let's talk about what feeling lighter, calmer, and more connected to yourself would look like.