You don’t make time for healthy living. You take it.

It was a typical Monday, a fresh start at tackling too much to do with too little time, something I hadn’t achieved in any prior weeks. I walked in the door later than normal following a school board meeting.

The girls were busy in the kitchen preparing dinner. “Hello Mom,” they both greeted me with actual eye contact and smiles. “We thought we’d help out by getting dinner started. We are sautéing ground Italian turkey to serve with red sauce on whole wheat noodles,” said Maggie.

“I’m chopping zucchini, red and green bell peppers, sweet onions, and mushrooms,” said Emily so we can sauté them too because I knew you’d want to have some vegetables too.

“Why don’t you take a seat on the patio and listen to some music for a few minutes,” my husband said as he came in from outside carrying an empty garbage can.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Garbage day is Tuesday, not Monday.”

“I just wanted to get a head start,” he said. “That way we’ll have more time on Tuesday night to take a walk together after dinner. I picked up some salmon by the way. I thought we could grill it. It’s already in a marinade.”

I sat on the porch with an iced diet soda and slice of lime. Finally, after all these years, my family has realized how hard I work and decided to pitch in and help out. I guess all that begging, pleading, and complaining finally paid off. It only took 12 years.

“It’s 6:04 on Monday morning. WKNE staff meteorologist Pat Pagano is calling for a scorcher: hazy, hot and humid with temperatures in the `90s. Sounds like a day for the beach, not for the office,” the radio rattled me awake. I reached for the snooze button.

It’s Monday morning. I have to approve payroll, distribute the minutes, and book the board room.

What a silly dream. Yet for so long that’s exactly what I was hoping would happen. One day my family would recognize all I did for them and start to chip in more around the house so I could have more time for me. That is not how it happened.

I used to think my husband would step over my limp, lifeless body on the floor to get to the remote control after I had, like an obedient mare, worked myself to death.

I tried chore charts, cleaning nights, and smiley stickers. But I still owned all the tasks that way. No one else ever took responsibility for them. I was desperately trying to charm others into doing “my” work. Instead, I just walked away from it all to do what I wanted to do for me. I spend time picking out recipes, shopping for fresh foods, cooking healthy meals, and exercising everyday. I put these as priorities for me, pushing doing other people’s laundry lower on my to-do list.

Messes are patient. They will wait for me to come back. But an amazing thing happened. My husband found where we keep the toilet brush after all those years. My daughters learned how to operate a washer and dryer. And I learned how to accept and appreciate the ways in which they do these things. They aren’t on my timeframe. They aren’t up to my standards. It is hard to even tell the difference before and after a teenager cleans the bathroom. The broom doesn’t seem to reach into corners of the kitchen. The recycling bin spills over before it helps save the planet. But they are finally doing what I always wanted because I didn’t do it for them.

How do I find the time to exercise, eat right, work full time, and lead Weight Watchers groups? I don’t make the time. I take the time. I simply claim it for me before someone else snatches it up.