When most people hear the words self-care…
They imagine spa weekends, green smoothies, or those aesthetic morning routines where someone meditates at sunrise before sipping lemon water in a spotless kitchen.
But for us, self-care has never looked like that. It’s a little messier, a little weirder, and a lot more essential. It shows up in LEGO laws, quiet car escapes, and weekends where nobody changes out of pajamas. Not because we’ve let things go, but because that’s the rhythm our life actually needs.
In our house, self-care doesn’t come in a one-size-fits-all kit. Each of us has our own way of coming back to ourselves, and the older we get, the more we realise, it’s not indulgent. It’s the infrastructure holding everything together.
Ola’s Escape Routes (AKA how I stay sane)
We used to feel embarrassed by how differently we live. We’ve always been a low-demand household without really having language for it, and for a long time, that felt like something we had to apologise for.
But now, looking back, it feels like our whole life has been gently preparing us to parent a child with a lot of additional needs. Our way of moving through the world might not make sense to everyone, but it finally makes sense to us.
Sleep-In Sundays
One of the most sacred things in our week is the agreement that I get to stay in bed on Sundays for as long as I need. Luke takes over in the morning, and I stay under the covers without worrying about the time, breakfast, or whether Leon’s been fed, because childcare is something we share. There’s no guilt, no pressure, no rush to be useful. I wake up slowly, in my own time, and it genuinely resets something in my system.
Car Hiding
This one isn’t planned, but it happens often. I’ll come back from errands or a yoga class and sit in the car a little longer before coming inside. The shopping is slowly defrosting in the boot, but I’m not ready to be needed yet. Those few quiet minutes, just me and my phone or sometimes nothing at all, are often the only space in the day where nobody is asking anything of me and that stillness is magic.
Bath Rituals
My baths are long, sometimes up to two hours. I bring snacks, audiobooks, or a re-run of something comforting and mindless, like Grey’s Anatomy. It’s the one space where I don’t feel like I’m on call. The bathroom becomes a temporary bubble where I don’t have to be productive, helpful, or responsive, I just get to be.
Reiki & Massage
When I do manage to book one, it’s like my entire nervous system exhales. These aren’t luxury treatments, they’re acts of regulation. I’m spiritually curious by nature, and I love the way these sessions make me feel like someone else is helping hold the weight for a while. It’s less about pampering and more about finding an actual off switch for my brain.
Aerial Yoga
I used to do pole dancing, and while it was fun, it started to feel a bit too intense and performative. Aerial yoga has become the thing I didn’t realise I needed. It’s gentle but challenging, it holds structure without pressure, and it’s given me a way to move that doesn’t demand anything I don’t have to give. It’s become non-negotiable for me.
Luke’s Version of Recharge
Luke’s version of self-care leans toward structure, rhythm, and predictability, and honestly, it works. It’s not flashy or profound. It’s about tuning his system so that the rest of life doesn’t feel so loud.
Krav Maga
Krav is more than just exercise for him, it’s movement that clears the mental static. It helps him focus, react, and move in ways that calm his brain. There’s something about the intensity and repetition that grounds him. He walks in tense and walks out settled.
Predictable Routines
He’s someone who doesn’t want to reinvent the wheel every morning. The same breakfast, same order of tasks, even the same walking route, that consistency creates a buffer from the chaos of everything else. There’s a quiet peace in knowing what’s coming.
Sensory Walks
His walks are a mix of movement and meditation. With headphones in and a steady rhythm underfoot, he tunes into the light through trees, the shape of clouds, or just the repetition of steps. It’s a simple reset, but one that shifts his whole energy.
Decompression TV
His ultimate way to shut down is watching absolute chaos unfold on a screen, usually reality TV. The more dramatic, the better. Married at First Sight Australia is his current favourite – mine too! Watching other people unravel on screen gives him the mental distance to come back to our own life with a little more ease (and a lot more jokes).
Leon: Self-care, but make it Ninjago
Leon’s way of recharging looks different, but it’s just as valid and honestly, a lot more intuitive than most adults give kids credit for.
LEGO Command Centres
He’s in a deep Ninjago phase at the moment. He’s collected nearly all the minifigures and spends hours setting up scenes and storylines. He doesn’t build the sets much anymore – that’s usually Luke’s job – but the play is still elaborate and layered. And the rules? Strict. You touch something without asking, and you’ll hear about it.
Leon Days
Every so often, we’ll have a Leon Day. No schedule, no expectations, and complete autonomy. Sometimes that means he stays in his pants and does nothing structured. He doesn’t always want to draw, scoot, or do the things other kids his age are “supposed” to enjoy. Some days he just says, “Today is for resting,” and we listen. He knows what he needs, we’ve just had to unlearn the instinct to override it.
Screen Time
Screens help him reset, and we’ve let go of the shame around that. Watching his comfort shows on his own, in his own way, calms him down more effectively than anything else. Professionals have tried to talk us out of this but they haven’t met him. This works, so we trust it.
Water Play
Water is his element. Whether it’s swimming pools, water slides, or a hose in the garden, he comes alive around water. Not sprinklers, too unpredictable, but give him a hose and some space, and he’s in his happy place. It’s play, but it’s also regulation.
Self-Care as a Pack
Our collective rhythm doesn’t follow any kind of parenting manual. Sometimes we dance in the kitchen. Sometimes we eat toast for dinner. Sometimes we cancel plans and do absolutely nothing. But what’s become clear over time is this: when we follow what each of us actually needs, things work.
We use a meal subscription because none of us particularly like cooking and on low-energy days, cereal absolutely counts as dinner. We’ve learned that outsourcing isn’t failure. It’s survival. And sometimes we all need a weekend where nobody has to change out of pajamas or answer the door.
And yes, we love a good adventure. Climbing, zip-lining, and anything with adrenaline tends to bring us back into connection, especially for Leon. But even then, we know that events like birthday parties or big social gatherings mean we’ll need more downtime around them. We’re not pretending this is balance. It’s just what balance looks like for us.
The Real Definition (for us)
Self-care in our house doesn’t look aspirational. It looks accurate. It’s the invisible scaffolding that keeps our days from collapsing. It’s the quiet, flexible rituals that let us show up again — without masking, without shame, and without trying to keep up with a world that moves too fast for our nervous systems.
And if that sounds familiar to you, maybe you’re not broken. Maybe you’re just building a life that finally fits.
Privacy Matters: You can unsubscribe and opt out from our emails at any time. Your trust is our top priority.