,,Photo:, Arlington Pond in Salem, NH

Recently, someone in the

  • Take out earplugs and add them to the growing collection scattered behind, under, and next to my bed.
  • Roll over, grab whichever headphones or earbuds my hands stumble upon. Wake my husband up as I knock stuff over.
  • Listen to morning affirmations or whatever
  • Self-healing body scan and other “woo woo” stuff that sometimes elicits a slow-motion “oh… kay…” Hey, it works. With my gene pool, I need all the help I can get.


5:00 AM | Procaffeinating

  • Get the sh*t scratched out of my arm by a pouncing, hungry rescue cat.
  • Make my special gano coffee. It has reishi mushrooms in it. Again, because immunity.
  • Finally feed the cat. (Sorry Jett, mommy has priorities.)
  • Scroll through phone. Delete 90% of emails. Some of them go into my “Future Clients” folder.
  • Confirm my plan for the day, written out hour by hour with colors for categories and codes for prioritization. It’s a ridiculous OCD process that saves my life.
  • Indulge inner debate about whether or not I have time to workout now. I know, I’m adorable.
  • Drink half cup lukewarm coffee while scrolling social media. Hit “like” and “love” a lot. Thanks to diligent filtering, it reinforces my gratitude for a truly stellar personal and professional social circle.

6:00 AM | Good Mom, Bad Mom

  • Gently wake up my son, sometimes with a song that he enjoyed when he was about a decade younger. Say, “Do you want 5 more minutes?” then tell his Alexa to set the timer for 7 minutes.
  • Make sure the boy actually got out of bed, and didn’t just tell Alexa to shut up.
  • Find out which article of clothing he *has to* wear that day but isn’t clean because it was hiding in the crevice between his wall and his bed. Wash it in the sink, spray it with some stuff and throw it in the dryer.
  • Throw a load of laundry in the washer thinking it will help the next day. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.
  • Sweep floors, put away dishes, clean the kitchen, etc. Wonder why the counter grime is invisible to everyone else except me.
  • Take photo of sunrise (such as the one above). Remind myself to be grateful and zen-like.
  • Listen for the teenage zombie clip-clop of sneakers down stairs.
  • If needed, help with hair. Apparently, the current style is called a “flow.” ‍♀️
  • Say, “Did you brush your teeth? Go brush your teeth. Are you wearing deodorant? Go put on deodorant.” Literally. Every Day. (He’s almost 15. I blame bad parenting.)

6:44 AM | Vicarious Childhood Rematch

  • Last ditch effort to get the kid to eat something. “No, not even toast? Are you sure? Here, have some monster water.”
  • Mix my half cup of now completely cold coffee with a half cup of new, hot coffee so that I have a full cup of coffee for the road that is just warm enough to be cold again by the time I go to take a sip.
  • Say, “Are you sure you don’t want to wear more than that? It’s cold outside…” at least 17 times. The resistance to seasonably-appropriate outerwear hurts my soul.
  • Put my own scarf and puffy vest over my pajama shirt and joggers, plus boots and other accouterments so that I look as much like a homeless person as possible.

6:48 AM | Commute

  • Get in car to take son to his bus stop 15 minutes away instead of driving him 30 minutes all the way to school. (Note: sometimes hubby does the bus stop run.)
  • Resist the urge to complain about the weather. Grateful. Zen place. Right.
  • Pray I can make it back and forth without needing to stop for gas. (Which I do, but then later will be running late somewhere and only remember that I need gas as I am on the highway where all the gas stations are a “short detour” which is Google Maps technical term for “hahahahahahaha”.)

6:50 AM | Why’re Men Great la la Gotta Be Great

  • Sing just enough random snippets of modern song lyrics to get a reaction from son ranging from eye roll to annoyance to total cringe.
  • Listen to the “Jam Scam” on
  • Ask the boy any question to be answered with a word that is neither yes or no. Maybe “word” is an exaggeration. More like a grunt.
  • Silence.
  • More singing. Son sinks completely into

7:05 AM | Gotta Catch ‘Em All

  • Wait for bus.
  • Catch all the Pokémon in bus stop parking lot re: MistbornMom on Pokémon Go. Don’t judge me. (Though, if this reference means nothing to you, that’s probably a good thing.)
  • When the bus comes and the boy is exiting the car, say, “I love you! Have a great day!”
  • Actually get real words back, “Love you too!” He speaks!
  • Smile.

7:10 AM | Sibling Support

  • Talk to my sister on the phone (hands-free of course) while I drive. Continue conversation in the driveway after I get home. Philosophize about work, life, parenting, health, and how wine is indeed the gateway drug to Twizzlers.
  • Side note:
    Both parents now deceased, there’s a lot of unsaid comfort in this ritual

7:30 AM | Seize the Day

  • Time to start the day! Like, for real…
  • Catch glimpse of myself in entryway mirror. Yikes. Remove homeless person accoutrements.
  • Realize I left my coffee in the car, go back outside wearing much less footwear than the weather calls for, realise I locked the car, go inside, debate new footwear and decide to live on the edge. Get coffee from car; pour into sink. Debate putting new cup of hot coffee into one of the 72 coffee carafe cups that we have explicitly for this purpose. Decide to live on the edge. This is becoming my new mantra.
  • Chit chat with my husband, ask him if he wants coffee or breakfast knowing he will decline both. It only now occurs to me that he probably doesn’t even know about monster water.
  • Pull out my detailed daily plan to remember what I have next. Determine when I will need to shower and/or dress like an adult and/or debate working out (again). Proceed accordingly.

Your turn! What’s your morning routine? Please go to my