I’ve been suffering from a lack of inspiration lately, a lack of zeal for the everyday things. Don’t take this too seriously; I am still happy, still the positive, can-do Jessie that everyone knows (and loves?). Lately though, I have found myself all to often looking around, realizing that it is 2:30 in the afternoon, holding a groggy toddler just awakening from her nap, wondering what have I been doing today? The days are blending, melding, droning. My blog posts have become more sporadic, which I believe is a bellwether for my life enthusiasm. This space, as much as I avoid the personal, is an extension of my me-ness, or how much of it I’m letting out at any point in time. My husband prefers to call it my weirdness (“a good weird though, seriously”).
I’m starting to wonder if this is all tied to the beginning of my day. Generally I spring out of bed, either to quiet our beagle sentry or to quickly pick up a nearly potty-trained toddler lest she wet her crib in impatience. My mornings are unpredictable – there is no time to prepare, to plan, to think before the day starts. I believe my refusal to wake up even one moment before it is necessary has handicapped my days, broken the rhythm. So in the spirit of improvement, I vow to wake up before my daughter for at least a week (provided she doesn’t pull an early morning on me) and see if it makes a difference. It’s not going to be easy – waking up early is difficult to do when there’s no one making you. But I feel like I need to try.