On Trying To Be a Grown-Up

A long, long time ago I wrote about some of the misconceptions that I had as a child about what things would be like when I grew up. Topping that list was the erroneous idea that, once I became an adult, I would magically start to make my bed every day. (I don't.) Second only to that was the surety I had that I would wake up early every day, well before the kids were awake, just like my mom always did. (Mmm...nope.)

Making the bed: Meh. I know I probably should, but it isn't something I spend too much time thinking about, particularly because I am not in my room at all during the day to see what a slacker I am. (Side note: Cyndie...have you realized yet that you have "Miss American Pie" in your head?)

Getting up early is another story. I have always thought about how nice it would be to do this. To wake up, and be dressed and functioning before the children come trickling downstairs, sounds divine. To be out of pajamas, showered, with contacts in before jumping into packing lunches, breaking up fights, and going over the day's schedule seems almost unattainable. Divine? Absolutely. Unattainable? For sure. But it still sounds like a great way to start off the day.

Just one problem: I absolutely hate waking up in the morning. Doesn't matter what time I went to bed, or how much sleep I got, or what time it is, or how many things I need to get done that day. I. Can't. Stand. It. And, knowing any or all of those things does not help me a bit. Actually, as it turns out, I am the queen of rationalizing when I am half asleep. "I'll just snooze one more time. Surely a 2 minute shower is possible if I sprint to the bathroom and don't wash my hair or shave my legs." "Well, if the kids aren't awake yet, I can always just take them to school late, it's no big deal." And, my personal favorite: "I'll just run tomorrow instead."

I really have been wanting to change this. Ten years of motherhood and however many years of adulthood have obviously not done the trick. In fact, the motherhood part might make it even worse. I mean, who wants to wake up and already be at work? Who else besides a mother (or maybe a head chef) is thinking about what to make for dinner when she's brushing her teeth in the morning? Who wants to be visually reminded of all the things she didn't get done the day before the second she sets foot outside her bedroom door? And who, of all people, wants to function all day long knowing that her wonderful, comfortable bed is just sitting there waiting in the other room with the covers already thrown back like open arms to receive her? Not me, that's who.

But. Hard as it is. Horrible as it is. I recently learned that I can do it.

{Get up early, that is. Not make the bed. I'm not a miracle worker, you know.}

I read a simple quote a few weeks ago by Gordon B. Hinckley that inspired me to at least try to make a change: "If you go to bed at 10:00 and get up by 6:00 a.m., things will work out for you." It seemed like sound advice. It definitely seemed plausible. It was absolutely time to give it a try.

The first two weeks were rough, I'm not going to lie. After a summer schedule that consisted of going to bed at a ridiculous hour every night and getting up at a borderline ridiculous hour every morning, switching to getting up early was insanely difficult. Getting up before my kids needed to get up was tantamount to torture. {Plus, have you ever actually tried going to bed at 10:00 at night? It's pretty much impossible.}

But. I pushed through. I chose to believe in that quote, and, since it comes from a man that I love and admire, was able to put my complete faith in it. I figured I'd give it at least a couple of weeks before accepting defeat and going back to my sleepy ways. I mean, a girl's body has to adjust, right?

An amazing thing has happened: I have learned that I can do it. After two miserable, falling-asleep-at-the-dinner-table weeks, I actually turned the corner and found that yes, that elusive, difficult, oh-my-gosh-I-don't-think-I-can-do-this goal was really attainable. And not just attainable; I'm actually enjoying it a little. (I mean, you know, there is satisfaction in it...the waking up/getting up part is still a little painful. Let's just say that I have to drag myself from asleep to awake in three, deliberate, 5 minute snoozes each morning.)

Like every other aspect of my life (and, let's face it, my very flawed personality) I am not perfect in this. Some days I hit snooze a lot more times than I mean to. Some days I only have about 5 minutes to myself before the kids are up and the day really begins. And I don't think I've ever actually hit the 10 pm goal, though I have gotten close on occasion. But I am trying, which feels good, even if I often miss the mark. It's been good for me to be reminded that I can do hard things and that just because this particular thing might be easy for others, that doesn't make it any less of an accomplishment since it is still a struggle for me.

For days when I don't quite make it, I just remember something else that I recently read: "Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.'" And try again is what I do. Even if it means getting up at an insane hour and trying to force a contact lens into my tired eyeball before the sun's first rays have even spilled over the horizon.

{Plus, look at the gorgeous views I've been missing!}