LISA WRITES

Thinking about morning routines

I was recently thinking, how did I get into morning routines? I certainly didn't care about these kinds of things in high school or college, but for the last few years I've been intrigued and convinced that a morning routine works well for me.

Back when Josh and I lived in the Green Mountains of Vermont, I have memories of waking up before Josh, making some breakfast and tea, and sitting with my laptop to write blog posts. I enjoyed the early peace of the mornings, with a bit of alone time before the day began.

When we lived in New York City and I took on a full time position as a regional farmers' market coordinator for lower Manhattan, I loved having a morning routine. Getting up to be on call at 6am five days a week was hard, but having something to look forward to in those early morning hours at home made me happy. With my cell phone nearby and ready, but armed with my laptop for writing, a smoothie or overnight oats, and a cup of coffee, I was ready to take on the day, and those early phone calls. By the time I got to the farmers' markets or office I'd already done some writing, taken the dog on a walk, and had my coffee and breakfast.

Then I got pregnant. While I had a smooth and healthy pregnancy, I still had much insomnia and fatigue, so sleeping in until I absolutely had to get up was much more appealing than any type of morning routine. And once our daughter was born, there was definitely no time, or even a thought, about getting up early. I knew that one day I'd probably get back into it, but for a long time, our daughter was my alarm clock, and I was happy to get as much sleep as possible.

For the last month or two I've started to get back into a morning routine, waking up before the rest of the household and getting some things done.

It's magic. I find my mood is better all day long when I have these 30-60 minutes (sometimes more, sometimes less) to myself. I'm constantly making changes, and figuring out what feels good and what makes me happy. And it's just what I need. A charge up. 

Under pressure

Sometimes I hate the pressure I put on myself. This feeling of needing perfection. Those Type A tendencies.

For many months with my main blog, I felt like I had to follow all of the "rules" out there with blogging. Stick with a niche. Create a checklist. Make a Pinterest-worth photo. Write a long post. Share the post all over social media.

And then, people will come.

Ha. 

I mean, maybe if I did that for a long enough time, eventually my traffic and social media numbers would grow. But instead, I stopped caring.

Don't get me wrong — I love writing about farmers' markets and motherhood and habits and routines. For some reason, though, when I try to niche down and blog about the same topic over and over, I lose interest. I hate the pressure, and the pressure makes me stop writing.

And it's just a damn blog. I do this for me, I do this to share, I do to practice my writing. I'm not doing this to make money or to become famous. (Though writing a book is a tiny dream of mine that I wouldn't turn down, but anyway...)

The same thing happened with Instagram. I've felt pressure to share photos within one niche, and I'm the only one who puts that pressure on myself. It's stupid and silly, and just like blogging, makes me want to share even less, because I end up aiming for some standard of perfect.

I write because it's fun. I share on Instagram because it's fun. Once they become a source of stress or pressure, that's when it's time to either take a break, or change what I'm doing. That's why I started this side blog where I write whatever's on my mind (and I may end up adding all of these posts to my main blog down the road anyway).

Recently I went into my blog reader and email list and removed anything that focuses on blogging. I was finding that I'd get really into reading those bloggers' archives, taking in as many of their techniques as possible. I'd take their courses and watch their webinars, because they sounded so convincing, making me think that maybe I could make money from my blog, or something. I even created a blog challenge, which was fun, but I knew it wasn't really the right fit for me or my audience, and that I didn't go into this blogging thing for anything but to share my adventures and thoughts.

So here I am. Still writing. Still sharing, and quite happy with this little space where I don't feel the pressure, where there aren't so many eyeballs. It's helping.

How I start my day: Scenario three

6:35 am. Our girl is calling for me on the monitor. I stretch, turn off the monitor, put on my sweatshirt and slippers, drink a pint glass of water, and make my way to her room.

I feel a bit groggy, sleepy, having just woken up. But I also feel well rested, like I got the sleep I needed this morning. I nurse her and we read books together as I get her changed for the day.

Time for coffee and the day.

No early morning free time for writing and reading, but that shall come.

As people say, we are always in different seasons of life. I didn't really understand that saying until having a child. The newborn days of feeling so not like myself, an almost out of body experience. The infant days of feeling somewhat more on track, but still out of a routine. And now with a toddler, we have the ease of more routine, one steady nap a day, and a sense of knowing.

But life with a child is still an unknown from day to day. She is her own person, and much of my life is based on her wants and needs.

So while today I did not get in my early alone time, I did get a lot of sleep. Which is important too. 

How I start my day: Scenario two

I hear our daughter on the sound monitor. She sounds quite upset. I get up, check the time: 4:15am. Oof. 

I lie in bed for five minutes, ten minutes, waiting to see if she'll fall back to sleep, or if she needs a little help. Ten minutes later, she's still upset. She's not hysterical, but also doesn't sound like she's going to sleep any time soon.  This doesn't happen very often anymore (knock on wood).

I groggily go to her room, pick up her pacifiers off the floor, and hold her in my arms to nurse her. Then back in the crib she goes, but I've learned that I can't just plop her down. She needs a little reassurance, to know mommy's still right there. Standing over her crib, I rub her back as she holds her little blankie and soothes herself to sleep.

By the time I'm back in the kitchen to get a drink of water, I glance at the clock. 4:45am.

On this morning, I try to go back to sleep, but I lie there with thoughts running. After a half hour or so, I turn on the lamp, and read my book until our girl is up for the day at 6:30am.

And so it goes.