Day 154

5 am workouts are a bitch.

I have a 1.7 second window where my alarm goes off and I realize it is because my super peppy, go-get-'em night time self set it at that time to get up and workout, but if that 1.7 second realization passes and I do not actually get up, I am zonked out until 7 when my next "school" alarm goes off.

I know this.

I know my brain has magic persuasive powers that make me rationalize why I don't need to exercise today, and how tomorrow would be better, or that maybe Nathan will come home before 8pm and I could go before dinner, or even if he comes home, I can go after the kids are in bed.

Oh you tricky, tricky, manipulative brain.


The thing is, if I jump up when the alarm goes off, I am actually good.  I dare say I am even awake.

So I had basically this exact monologue in my head this weekend, at the gym actually (because I was peppy, go-get-'em Nicole at the time), and when my alarm went off at 5am I momentarily thought I set it for 1 am, because that is what time it felt like (that is what time my brain wanted me to think it was at least), I shook the thought out, jumped up and left.

Just like that.

Except I peed first and brushed my teeth.

I even made things slightly easier for myself by actually sleeping in my workout clothes.  Think what you will, but getting that extra 2 minutes (okay let's be honest, it's more like ten when I just wake up and am fumbling around in the dark and my stubborn brain is refusing to communicate to my limbs how to perform simple tasks like putting my leg into my pants, and I end up hopping around, tripping over my dog and waking everyone up) to sleep more, is worth literally looking like I just rolled out of bed, because I did.

And the people who frequent the gym at 5am don't seem to care that my mascara from the day before has smudged all around my eyes, and I look like a raccoon.
On yet another tangent, I should say I really wish I was one of those women who have a nightly routine, and stand in front of the mirror, washing their face before bed, applying their nightly moisturizer, a little headband holding their hair back, talking to their husband about some important thing.  But I'm not.  When I am done for the night, I am done, and I am lucky to remember to change into pjs, and not fall asleep standing at the sink doing dishes, or in one of my kids' beds.

That is the truth.  Maybe I will adopt a nightly routine when I am thirty.

Yes, I definitely will.  Thirty sounds like a totally appropriate age to have a good nightly routine.



I think I get a lot more accomplished when I am awake that early.

And I think it makes me a better mom.

How?
Oh, well why don't I tell you!

For example, I am more apt to whip up some pancakes, maybe add chocolate chips, or blueberries.
Or some scrambled eggs and bacon.
Or french toast.

If I don't wake up early, cereal or waffles in the toaster.

See?
Better mom.  (Take that manipulative, procrastinating brain!)

I got so much laundry done, I read lots of books with the kids, I allowed Keira to convince me she had to go to the bathroom every 7 minutes (she really just has an obsession with sitting on her Dora seat), and that was okay because by 9am, I had the dishes done, the floors swept, the counters and cabinets and walls cleaned, the laundry was already in, and toys were being picked up as they were coming out.

Ladies and gentleman, maybe I found the key to life.

Or the key to my life.  I'm sure all of you are more responsible and make your children pancakes whenever they want, and have your houses clean all the time.

I bet you also drink a lot of coffee.

I don't.

I hate coffee.

Yes, I said it.  I HATE COFFEE.

And even though I like to steal a bite out of my kids munchkins every now and then, I actually hate donuts too.

I had a friend over in the afternoon, and I get as excited for adult conversation as my kids would for a trip to Disney World.


I realize I have strayed so far off what I began talking about.  That is my brain rebelling.  Getting me back for all the snide comments I have made.  It wants you to think I am crazy.

I probably am.

But yesterday was a good day.


If I was talking to you in person right now, and happened to have a microphone in my hand, I would now lean in and say "Nicole, OUT!"

Then I'd turn super dramatically, drop the mic and while walking away throw my arms up in the air, hands giving off peace signs.