A few weeks before Christmas, I found myself at a live musical production of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
It kind of sounds like hell, right? Initially, I thought so too. I sometimes like to pretend I’m a cool parent, one who doesn’t play kids music or use baby talk or have toys taking over her living room. I am a writer and a badass and a partner and a yogi and a woman, not just a mom!
But the thing is that even though I’m not just a mom, I AM a mom. More specifically, I’m a mom who adores her vivacious, feisty daughter more than life itself. I could not deny that going to see the Chipmunks live was something that Olive would absolutely love, so I did it. For her.
This bedtime thing has been in full swing for two weeks now and it’s already paying off. How, you ask? Are my undereye circles gone? Am I filled with a renewed sense of vim and vigour? Do I leap out of bed every morning, eager to greet a new day?
No. Gross. Absolutely not. What the hell is vim and vigour anyway?
I still loathe bedtimes 80% of the time, and I think I will always loathe waking up. BUT, I must say, once I am in bed disgustingly early, and once I wake up, also disgustingly early, I love it. I do. Getting there is a battle, but I’ll be honest, it pays off. BUT, this isn’t a bedtime post. This is a post about how bedtime saved my ass (and my sheets, at least temporarily) the other night.
Gather ’round, children, for a real horror story, mom-style.
January, despite the initial thrill of it being a new year! and the excitement of tackling all those bright and shiny resolutions!, can devolve quite quickly into a dreary, blah sort of month, especially when contrasted to the glitz and glam of December.
Thus, for me, January has typically been a puttering sort of month. I get rid of excess clothes, toys, and clutter. I write thank you notes. I rearrange furniture and pack away Christmas. It’s a month of preparing, laying the way for the rest of the year to come.
Buuut early on this week, it hit. The doldrums. I was bored, my hair felt frumpy, and I felt itchy – both literally and figuratively. The dry weather was sucking every last ounce of moisture from my skin and I just wanted to do something. So I did!
A few years ago I decided to take a different approach to New Year’s Resolutions. Rather than entering the new year gung-ho with a list a mile long ready to CHANGE EVERYTHING, I decided to devote the entire year to learning and growing in different areas. I assigned a different focus to each month (one was yoga, one was counselling, one was gardening) with the idea that this structure would allow me some time to acclimatize to each new change, and make it a part of my routine before adding another new resolution into the mix. (I wrote about the thinking behind this style of resolution-making for my Guardian column last week, too)
I went all out and created vision boards for each month to keep me on track, and I loved it. It was a great way to ensure that I was progressing and improving and learning all year instead of starting strong but fizzling out mid-January.
So! I’m doing it again this year. I’ll be sharing my monthly resolutions throughout the year, with updates on how the others are carrying through.
January, for example, is bedtimes.
No, not for Olive. For me.