Friday, March 25, 2016
Early to Rise
Our recent move means that we all have a change in schedule. For my kids, that means waking up early enough to make the bus at 6:30.
Which means waking up by 5:45. On purpose. Five days a week.
This has not been an easy transition. I mean, I do consider myself to be a morning person, but I don't define morning as 5:45... more like 7:00. That's a way more reasonable hour.
I was grumbling about waking up when my husband pointed out that he, too had to wake up long before it was necessary. But I literally don't have to be anywhere. I GOT NO PLACE ELSE TO GO, I spat back at him because while I'm not fit for human interaction at 5:45 in the morning, I am able to generate an "Officer and a Gentleman" movie quote. Which reminds me of that one morning in basic training when I rolled over and stretched, eyes opening to see the frantic stare of the girl from the bunk next to me as she quickly made her bed, whispering Are you kidding me!? wake up! I clearly had forgotten where I was and what I was doing there and even the early-morning call of GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! wasn't enough to get me up that morning, because I was tired; but I digress.
It took a little time, but my kids got into the rhythm of their early mornings and I pretty much never have to barge into their rooms with an Are you kidding me!? WAKE UP! and they know *not* to ask me any deep-thought questions before I get the first cup of coffee at least partially consumed because I'm not the parent who says "yes" when I'm not paying attention, I'm the one who says "no." My husband and I know that this is *not* the time to try to one-up each other on the "woe is me I need more sleep" drama because that's a battle we are both going to lose—and we're both competitive. That's not a death match we need to engage in. So, while I may not be fully functional at 5:45, I am vertical.
But still... not an early morning person. I'm still prone to my personal pity parties. I mean, at first when waking up early was a novelty, I would be journaling and blogging at the breakfast bar for the sheer novelty of having a breakfast bar.
That wore off. In about two days.
But then today, I was reading a post my good friend Marisa wrote about getting up for yoga (emphasis added by me):
Here is a normal, not-Oprah person getting up at the same time I get up each morning, and doing it because it makes her happy. She takes care of herself. She writes in her journal. She goes to yoga.
I encourage you to read all of Marisa's post (When You Leave Yoga Class More Wound Up Than When You Came In) and all the other stuff she posts because she's funny and smart and inspirational.
True confession time: I can sometimes be a bit of a whiny bitch. I mean, you might have intuited that based on this post, which thus far has been me whining about not wanting to wake up early. Matter of fact, I'm rather a professional about getting in my own way and making excuses for not doing the things I know I need to be doing. What's up with that? Because I can give other people awesome advice about getting shit done. I can motivate other people, but when it comes to myself, fuhgeddaboudit. And if you read that word in your head in Hugh Grant's horrific "Italian" accent from that horrible movie he did where he pretends to be a mobster, you get an extra point.
So I pledge to myself to get the hell out of my own way. To use my hours for good instead of whining. Frankly, I'm interested to see how it turns out.