Is 'me time' my time?

My little man in now a heafty 8 months old and it is only now that I find there are magical moments in the day or evening when he becomes a most obliging gent and has a sleep. Normally I would choose these times to do the washing, ironing or as is the case currently, slave over the stove and cookbooks (thank you for Annabel Karmel) trying to keep up with the constant need to feed the little man with a huge range of food. The need for this variety is because, as always, the literature mixed with the ever 'on your case' HV's (health visitors), keep telling us of what damage we are doing to our babies because they do not 'get enough iron, vitamins, drink enough formula milk' and so on. Whatever happens there is always something out there just waiting for you to do something foolish like be selfish and glance at a bit of literature (magazine) or chat with a friend because the 'guilt trip' is waiting to pounce.
Now when I first started out on this baby-lark I found I had a baby that was very hard to feed. 'Milk, no thanks mum, not for me today, tomorrow or any day soon'. (Hence I seemed to have eternal visits and phone calls from the HV's). Due to this, I was very excited about the prospect of weaning. It was a major milestone and meant so may things. My little man was really starting to grow up and maybe, just maybe, the milk battle would end! I love to cook. Not in the style of Master Chef or Britians Best Dish - when my PM (Play Mate - husband) suggested I tried for these sort of programmes my blood ran cold. I felt flattered he appreciated my food so much (PM does have a substantial figure so I didn't let it go to my head!) but it's just not my scene. I enjoy putting a decent meal on the table and devouring it knowing it is good stuff. I like to play and create something from nothing (usually what's left in the bottom of the fridge draw). I feel I need to add here that I am only human so I have a cupboard with jars of pasta and curry sauce - oh, and a draw with local take away numbers that deliver to the door! As I enjoy cooking I was relishing the challenge of cooking and nourishing my little man..... so how is it I now dread the next meal. To start with all went well, he ate and enjoyed. He started to consume the lovingly made meals at such a speed I feared for his digestive system. He even cried when a bowl was finished. What ever I offered he ate. He was showing himself to be a true son of mine and PM - we love our food and so now does our son! Until a week ago that is. Then our little man decided, 'no, not anymore. If you offer it I dont want it'. I now find that every moment spare is spent in the kitchen rustling up more diverse foods using ingredients that I have never tried just to try and tempt him (hence the blessing called Annabel Karmel, sorry my beloved Pru but your book doesn't quite write for under 1's and all the does and don't that go with them). So today, as PM goes off in the morning to play with friends for the day, I am left looking at a house that looks neglected, meal planning in my head, creating lists (I live for lists but that is another story) and holding the baby. Using all the tricks in the trade I managed to distract and amuse the little man enough to get some food into him at breakfast including a whole 3oz of milk (not good by HV terms but not bad for him!). Then comes play time until he starts making that magical gesture, the eye rub. I hone in on it and quickly respond by wiping off the old nappy to replace it with a fresh new one and whisking him away to his cot. I lay him down and in moments he is asleep, bless him. So, this is my time, what to do first.... I could wash up, sweep and wash the floor, get the washing on, I need to marinade the ribs for when PM gets home and expects feeding and there is a range of food to cook to temp the little man with. But today, for the first time, I paused. The two men in my life where doing what they wanted, so what was it that I would like to do. Just for now, knew I had 3/4 hour, I decided to take the me time and truely make it mine. I found a book and ran a deep hot bubble bath, and there I lay lost in the world of Griff Rhys Jones and his adventures to the Baltic with Bob..... for the first time in 8 months I finally allowed myself to take me time as my time. Now how slummy is that?!