I went to bed angry. I woke up angry. In my dreams, people were trying to kill me and the washing machine (which looked like a couch) was leaking. I should have recognized the signs…
As I wrote before, I’ve made a goal to go to bed early. A few nights ago, I actually fell asleep with my daughter at 8 pm. I woke up at 5.30 am the next morning feeling refreshed and full of energy. I enjoyed some quiet time and then decided to head to my home office to get ahead on my day’s work. In one hour, I cleaned up my inbox and my desk. The mail was sorted through, the bills paid, the paperwork scanned. By the time my daughter’s head peaked in at 7.05 am, I was done with work for the day. I was filled with a great sense of accomplishment. I had all the time in the world to do everything else: exercise, homeschool, cook, read, play…
This chance experience led me to want to readjust my daily rhythms. Instead of going to bed late as I usually do and waste those hours at night surfing the internet on my phone, I could go to bed early, around 9 pm, wake up early, around 5.30-6 am and actually be productive. I wouldn’t be taking time away from my daughter and I would end up getting more sleep.
The plan sounded good. There was only one glitch I foresaw: I wondered if my daughter would start waking up earlier too just from knowing that I was up…
Sure enough.
On Monday, the first day she saw me in the office, she had woken up at 7.05 am.
On Tuesday, she woke up at 6.30 am.
On Wednesday (today), she woke up at 6 am! six! She woke up before me!
So here I am. Not in the office. Not getting ahead on my day’s work. Not being productive. But sitting at my usual spot in the bathroom and venting out my frustration in my journal because I don’t know what else to do.
The whole idea was to have an hour of uninterrupted work. If she’s awake, interruptions are guaranteed.
Doesn’t she get that I am doing this for her? (No she doesn’t)
Doesn’t she realize that if my work is done early morning, she can have my undivided attention the rest of the day (No she doesn’t)
Doesn’t she see I’m sacrificing by waking up early. For her. (No she doesn’t)
Did I mention she’s six years old?
I could train her to stay in her room but frankly I don’t want to start my day telling her to “go away” or “leave me a alone” because “mommy needs to do something else right now”, something that doesn’t include her. Our habit up to now has been to have quality time together first thing in the morning, to fill up her emotional tank
So there goes my plan. There lie my best intentions.
It seemed simple until reality slapped me in the face once more. Asking me to be flexible. Asking me to deal with what is and not what if. Showing me once again that “my way” is no longer an option since I am a mother.
Today, instead of feeling like a winner, I just want to crawl back into bed and stay there for a long while.
I want to forget about the work.
I want to forget about the meals to cook.
I want to forget about exercise (and that I might actually feel better if I did some)
I don’t want to do anything, think anything, plan anything. Planning is not my friend right now.
I know my hormones are acting up (that time of the month…). I’m aware of that much and so instead of throwing a big tantrum…
Maybe I will crawl back into bed (everything feels better when you are in bed).
Maybe I won’t cook anything (Thank you Costco and microwavable meals).
Maybe I won’t do any formal homeschool (because I’m the teacher and I get to decide).
Maybe I’ll let her watch a show.
Maybe I’ll watch one too.
And maybe, I’ll wake up tomorrow (early or not I don’t know) and all will feel better and the plan will be back on.
And maybe not…
This is Life teaching me.
Nothing is permanent.
Nothing is for sure.
Nothing works exactly as we want.
I can kick and scream. I can pout. I can cry. I can revolt.
Life will just look at me unfazed. A knowing smile on her face. Like a loving parent, she knows it is for my own good even when I can’t see it. If I had all I ever wanted. If I never faced challenges. If my plans always worked… There wouldn’t be much to learn. There wouldn’t be reason to stretch beyond my limits. There wouldn’t be cause for growth.
And I do know for sure: This too shall pass…
Tomorrow is another day.
Next week’s essay is titled “All in a week”. Subscribe using the widget below and it will magically appear in your inbox once it is published.