How I Became A Morning Person…
I think I might be a morning person? I can’t quite believe it and I feel like kind of a fraud saying it. But, over the last couple of years I have been getting up earlier than the rest of my house ON PURPOSE—it’s like I don’t even know who I am. Let me explain.
First you should know that I have NEVER enjoyed getting up in the morning. I am one of those people who prefers that no one speak to me for at least a few hours. I like to ease into my day. Then I had children.
Whether it’s a baby crying because they’re hungry or a two-year-old holding a toy pig up to your sleeping face, the wake-up routine becomes a little different when you’re a mother. I like to call it “getting shot out of a cannon.” It’s like you are some crazy circus performer. While you might very well be deep in the throes of REM sleep, before both eyes are open or your feet have touched the floor small people are asking you questions, touching you or in need of some general assistance that only you can provide. This is not how I like to start my day.
Like it or not, it was exactly how I started my day for years. I’m sure it’s just how many of you still start your days. I really didn’t think too much about it. I just did. It was instinctual and became my default. When you have really small, sweet smelling infant people there is no alternative. You’re on call. You can’t roll over and hit snooze.
Precious Freedom
Fast forward to kids that are a little bigger and can quietly get themselves out of bed. Or as I like to call it, Nirvana. If you are the mother of small babes, I PROMISE you that this will happen. These people will not always feel the need to wake you up the minute their little eyes open. They will quietly and sneakily leave their tiny little beds and you will never know. I don’t know what they do downstairs before I wake. I imagine that they’re watching a show, playing video games and eating food I normally wouldn’t allow. But you know what? I don’t care, because I’m ASLEEP. They could be running an illegal card game down there for all I care as long as they don’t wake me up. They seem to figure this out quickly. They’re no dummies. The three noisiest children on the planet are quiet as mice during the magic morning hours when they’re awake without a parent on active duty.
So, infancy is over sleep has been restored and I’m living my best life. Why would I choose, of my own free will, to get up earlier than absolutely necessary? I know, it seems crazy. I have wanted this sleep for so many years. I have literally prayed for babies to sleep through the night, why would I give it up on purpose?
Why Would I Do This To Myself?
I guess the answer is peer pressure. I am fortunate enough to be a part of a community that recommends different personal development books. I’d already read a lot of them and liked them, so when the next book was Miracle Morning, by Hal Enrod, I checked it out. I looked into it for approximately six minutes until I realized that this joker was suggesting that you get up an hour earlier EVERY day and establish a morning process. That was his miracle. I thought, thanks, but no thanks, Hal. You morning people are great, and I appreciate you, but… namaste in bed. But, then everyone in the group kept reading it and kept talking about how it changed their days, their lives, their skin–OK, I made the last one up, but you get it– people were really into it.
In an effort to keep an open mind, I joined the upcoming online book club that was going to tackle it. So, I began reading it with a not-so open mind. I figured that I would read it and be the one person in the group for whom this process just didn’t work. I liked all of his ideas and his process, I just couldn’t get over the hour. I needed that hour, nay, I’d worked and prayed for that hour. Very reluctantly, I set my alarm for 5:00 a.m. to try this hocus pocus. I did not spring out of bed, I had no life-changing epiphanies, I struggled through the first few days. See? I knew it!
Then somewhere around week two or three something crazy happened. I slept through my alarm and woke up at 5:30 a.m. and I was mad. Mad because I’d missed thirty minutes of my time. You see, the wonder of being awake an hour before anyone else in your home is that you have an entire hour to yourself. Like, to think thoughts that only pertain to you. You get to think about what you want your day to look like, plan out how you’re going to get your promotion, visualize your next macramé project—whatever you decide to think about. I’m willing to bet that this doesn’t happen on a regular basis for most of us. Sure, maybe once or twice a week you get a minute for reflection. Sometimes on vacations or birthdays or anniversaries you think about bigger picture ideas, but do you do it every day? I didn’t, but I do now.
Surprise!
I realized that this hour became something I really enjoyed, something I’d fight for, something I would give up sleep for! No one was more surprised than me. I couldn’t believe that I was finding all of this hype to be sort of… true. The hour made me feel better. It made me feel like more of an individual person. It gave me time to think about and tackle things that I’d always wanted to, but “never had time” for before. What I realized is the hour was a gift to myself. But, if I wanted it, I’d have to make it happen.
It also made me nicer. I paid attention and realized that I was calmer and in a better mood on the days when I gave myself the hour. Was I tired? Sure, but I got used to the new routine and just went to bed a little earlier (which I probably should’ve been doing anyway). Surprisingly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. The extra hour made me feel like I had more time in my day even though I was essentially keeping the same hours.
All You
Even with the best plans and intentions, when you’re a mother once your family’s day starts, you’re on. Sure, you can work, be social–it’s not like you sit around staring at your children. What I mean is you are “mom” the minute the first person wakes up, you’re clocked in. In this magical morning hour or half-hour or twenty minutes, you get to be just you. It sounds so crazy, but there are not many moments that you’re afforded this luxury in the middle of raising kids and having a life.
So, am I officially a morning person? I wouldn’t go that far. I still love my sleep, but I’ve come to realize that I love my hour more. I won’t lie and tell you that this hour takes place three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. It doesn’t. Sometimes life gets in the way, but more often than not, I try to start my day a little earlier than my people. It’s a purely selfish act. Some days it just gives me the opportunity to read and think; other days it makes me feel like a rock star. But it always reminds me that I’m in there. Before I’m someone’s daughter/partner/mom/friend I’m my own person with my own private ideas and goals. So now I start my day with this version of myself. She’s actually pretty cool, she comes up with some great ideas, she learns something about herself almost every day and she has never once wished she stayed in bed.