I have never, not once in my life, not ever, been one of those people.
You know who I’m talking about. The chipper, showered, and put together neighbor pulling out of the driveway with her four kids on a weekend morning at seven. The lady at the grocery store in a dress and heels with perfect make-up and curled hair at eight in the morning while I look down at the pajamas I wore to bed and tuck some of the hair escaping my messy ponytail behind my ear. At least I put on a bra, okay?
Becoming A Morning Person
I’m not a morning person. I even have a shirt with that phrase, so it must be true.
But now that I have a little one of my own, I’m finding myself turning into one. Mason usually wakes up at eight in the morning, and then he’s on the move until nap time. He’s crawling, pulling himself up on every available piece of furniture, and seconds away from walking, which means my vigilance has never been more necessary—especially when you consider the amount of tile flooring in my house. Did the model of this house have this much tile when we looked at it five years ago?
Where’s The Writing Time?
If I get up at six, that gives me two uninterrupted hours of author time. It gives me a chance to meet my daily writing goal before the baby even wakes up. It allows me to take care of correspondence, catch up on notifications, and read what I wrote the day before—and all without someone sitting on my lap grabbing for the mouse wire while I type one-handed. All without someone crawling by my feet only to find the laptop cord. All without me having to worry that my sweet little monkey is getting into something he shouldn’t.
Where I used to be able to sleep in, now I find myself automatically waking up around six. At this time of year, that’s before the sun even comes up. The house is dark and quiet, and on the weekends, even my husband is still sleeping.
Two hours of perfect, quiet, uninterrupted ME time.
I’m actually really starting to love mornings…even though I’ll never be the mom who is showered and ready to go at seven. I promise to put on a bra if I leave the house, though.