Part Two: “Getting a New Morning Routine”
Again, inspired by a recent blog post by Sarah Wilson (my fave lifehacking blogger by a long shot), I have realised that my morning routine needs a massive overhaul.
On a side note, after reading said post, I have hereby decided that Winston Churchill’s morning routine is:
a) my personal fave; and
b) utter proof that of his considerable responsibilities, child-rearing duties were apparently not one.
The thing is, when it currently comes to my morning routine, I don’t think the motions I go through really qualifies…
7.30am – Am awoken by screaming and/or a child of some description jumping on my head. I do wish I was joking.
7.35am – General denial that the day has started without me.
7.38am – Somebody brings me a cup of coffee. This is usually my hubby (bless) or my daughter (bless) with a coffee that were I making it, would be deemed too watery. But at 7.38am with sleep in my eyes and with no effort on my part to get it into my hands? Bless.
7.42am – Pry myself up and into the kitchen, where I proceed to throw lunch into the kids lunchboxes. This is if they haven’t just seized the day and started doing it THEMSELVES. Yes. I can’t believe it either.
(Note: this was completely without prompting. Indeed, I suspect that the only contribution I had to this ‘we’ll make our own lunches from now on’ development is my ridiculous lazy slowness of throwing lunches together. Hence, their response to take it on themselves. They’re fast. They throw in what they want. And presto! Early to school for handball.)
7.43am – Wonder whether I’m a bad mother.
7.44am – More coffee. Wondering ceases.
8am – 8.30am – Wave the kids off to school and stare at my toddler, who stares back at me with a look that says “What the shizz do you expect me to do now?”
8.30 – 9am – Try to avoid staring at my kitchen. Eye off the cornflakes on the floor. Talk threateningly to them. Occasionally dab stuff with a cloth. Drink more coffee.
Ergo, not exactly a routine. More a scene breakdown of a very sad sitcom. Seriously. All I need is to add an annoyingly pert neighbour and a lesson at the end and I’ve got a crappy development deal.
In my defence, this state of affairs isn’t total laziness. Part of the way I get things done round here, you see, is to do most of them late at night. A typical night for me is bed at 1am. Sometimes earlier. Usually later.
My hubby knows and supports this move – it is, after all, a choice that lets me play stay-at-home Mummy bear throughout the days (with work squeezed in here and there around Mister 2’s naps, etc.) – meaning that he is cool with me sleeping later than I would otherwise do and hence the fam being on caffeine duty.
Secondly, I have a thyroid issue, which, while being treated, does mean that my energy levels are not what they oughta be. And my hair falls out.
Point is, there are reasons for this gross neglect of quality morning time. Don’t get me wrong, I am also completely and utterly lazy. I’m just saying that’s not the ONLY factor playing a part in this morning pile of steaming turd.
So yes. Morning routine. It has to happen. For a little while there in Canada I had a thing going where I’d wake up before the kids, have a herbal tea and a shower, followed by some writing. It was awesome. And it lasted a week.
But…it has to happen.
I’m thinking exercise (Wii Fit perhaps most realistic, given that babysitting is not an issue, I can’t use the weather as an excuse to get out of it and my avatar makes me look like Uma Thurman – you know, if she was rather chubby), followed by a shower and writing.
And coffee…which, I should be changing to herbal tea.
But come on, for now, let’s not get crazy.
*Image courtesy of Lynda C Watts