I’ve been sitting here ruminating on why I can’t get going on my morning routine, and I think I’ve hit upon the answer. (So of course I had to drop what I am doing and write about it.)
I’m trying to have a single morning as a mom.
What I’m trying to pull off would have been easy as a single person. Even when it was just me and R. In fact, it’d have been even easier than it is on my best days now, because the sink and the living room floor were always clear when I got up. I could have just done my thing.
Point is, I didn’t. Not regularly, anyway.
And now it is just not happening — at least not for a few years. This month has been no different from last month, or the month before, and next month will be more of the same. Kids will get sick. Babies will be clingy. Until they need me less, my time is not my own. Which is how it should be.
So I am conceding defeat here. Not that I don’t need to exercise, eat, and take time for myself. I do. I just need to find a way to make those things happen that better fits my life at this moment.
Just as soon as I figure out what that is, I’ll let you know.