Daily Routines To Keep Life Fresh, Adventurous, and Aspirational
It is afternoon. The warm sun streams gently into my living room. Sacred music plays softly through my speaker, and I’m wearing a bright cotton dress.
My son is snuggled up on my chest in the baby carrier, and my husband is puttering about in the kitchen making us lattes while I write this article. I’m standing in front of a shelf—my son will wake if I have the impertinence to seat myself.
The house is (mostly) clean, and everything is peaceful.
I think not.
Baby Steps
Just a few months ago, things were very, very different. I might have nearly agreed with the pop sensation’s statement.
I had tearfully resigned from my beloved full-time teaching job after having my son. My life was sweatpants and leggings. Each day, there seemed to be too many tasks for one person to complete, yet, without my job I had “free time” in abundance. But what was I to do with this time?
Money had never been so tight—retail therapy was out.
And yet, with these new struggles, I had to stay sane.
So it was that—albeit slowly—I realized I could romanticize life, even as a stay-at-home mom covered in spit-up.
And you can, too.
Revel in Routine
When I was in college, my mother bought me a daily planner.
At first, I just left it on my desk—for a time, empty and enticing. But, gradually it made its way off the desk and into my satchel.
It came with me to every class, its pages filled with classes, office hours with professors, tea parties with classmates and friends, and reminders to refill my laundry card.
Every year since, my mother has sent me a current edition of that planner—it has accompanied me from college through all of my various life changes since. It has seen everything, from my daily teaching schedule to midwife appointments to beloved students’ birthdays.
Even now, it is next to me as I write, reminding me that tomorrow I will be vacuuming, mopping, and baking two loaves of fresh bread.
My planner helps me recognize the small blessings in this season of life—I have always wanted more time to bake, but, due to a demanding career as a teacher, that often proved difficult. It is heavenly indeed to smell sourdough baking in the morning while my son giggles at the antics of our pets and I prepare his breakfast.
I suppose, to Chappell Roan’s friends, that feeling of pure exaltation is sadly foreign. To me, this “hell” of which they speak smells like happiness.
Take Time for Tradition
Of course, the concept of planning one’s days is neither novel nor especially enterprising. But, in this age of smartphones and laptops, I swear by taking time to pick up a nice pen and write things in an actual, physical, document.
As a stay-at-home mother whose days are almost entirely consumed with nursing, playing, reading to the baby, and getting chores done, it would be much quicker to type a “reminder” on my phone with one hand while I wrangled my son with the other.
But there is something cold and sterile about screens—something so personal and, dare I say, intimate about an actual piece of paper. It helps me slow down and truly consider what I am devoting my time to. I’ve found that, when I write my plans down rather than type them into my phone, I remember them better.
Similarly, I’m writing this article on my laptop. But, across the room, my fully functional vintage typewriter stares at me accusingly—I dare not turn to meet its eye.
Its time is soon to come.
Celebrate Self-Care
Self-care should not be as difficult as it is made out to be—especially for women with small children.
I always knew I wanted to be a mother. But, as a girl, I would find myself filled with a niggling sense of worry at the sight of some mothers.
Their hair was messy, often having undergone the “mom chop”. Their bodies boasted chipped nails, adorned with no speck of jewelry besides their wedding ring. And the frumpy clothes—oh, I shudder to think of the shapeless maxi-skirts! But the worst accessories of all were their tired and drawn faces.
These aspect of motherhood were never aspirational to me— indeed, it would be “hell” to always feel ugly and worn out.
When my son was born, I made a promise to myself: I would always—at the very least—put in earrings. I would wear an actual outfit. I would keep my mane of hair at least somewhat tamed.
And I would always get enough sleep—and coffee, that is nonnegotiable.
In my early postpartum days, those clothes were leggings and tank tops. But as soon as I was up and about, I was back in my sleek dresses, midi skirts, and my single nice pair of jeans.
Of course, everyone has a few days where they just need to wear pajamas. I have noticed, though, that those “PJ Days” are the ones in which I am far less productive and more slothful than I am when I make an effort to wear something pretty.
To take it a step further, I gave up leggings for Lent—I loved how feminine and beautiful I felt in skirts and dresses. I received a few puzzled glances when I walked into the grocery store in a milkmaid-style dress and as I took my walks around the neighborhood in a flouncy blue skirt with my son in the carrier. But, one day a little girl ran up to me and asked if I was a princess—that feeling made it all worthwhile.
Enjoy the Ordinary
Speaking of walks, they have truly helped me keep life fresh and invigorating during the everyday. I am lucky enough to live in a quiet neighborhood with a little park close by. Next month, the nearby community pool will open.
I’ve taken my son on daily walks for the last several months, and it is a special time for us both. He often falls asleep in his carrier, but I put the time to good use.
Typically, I listen to an audiobook, educational podcast, or music—but sometimes I simply soak in the sound of chirping birds and the gleeful recess-time shrieks of children at the neighborhood school.
Many times after these walks, I return with wildflowers. It’s no doubt a rather pedestrian notion to some, but it’s an impossibly romantic and very dear custom of mine. Even better—wildflowers and neighborhood walks and picnics in the park are free.
Celebrate the Beauty of Motherhood
As I have transitioned from a career woman to a stay-at-home mom, these strategies have served me well and opened my eyes to the beauty of this season of life.
Chappell Roan’s statement about her mothering friends being in “hell” is absolutely unfounded, at least in my sunlit corner of the world. But, even greater than the afternoon sun, my own son is the biggest light and blessing.
At the beginning of my writing, he was asleep in his carrier. Now, at the close, he is stirring and stretching, his long lashes fluttering as he wakes.
What a feeling it is to have your whole heart outside your body!
When I open my eyes each morning and find him blinking sleepily at me with his six-toothed smile, my heart bursts with love and joy.
I only wish that all mothers could experience this feeling and I hope that, in some small way, this article will help them do just that.
This guest article was written by Maura Tuffy, a teacher and new mother who makes her home in South Central Texas. In her spare time, she enjoys playing the violin, studying Latin and theology, and baking. You can enjoy more of her musings on her blog.