I was never a morning person. Never a solid routines person either.
I was never on time or organized. I had piles of chaos but could tell you exactly where everything was.
And I remembered everything without ever taking notes.
I stayed up late and didn’t worry about the next day. Or the future.
I never worried about money or saving all of my sick time to use for someone other than myself.
I took vacations.
And then I had a kid. A kid with autism.
I learned that it doesn’t matter whether or not I am a morning person because she is a morning person.
And routines are life.
Schedules equal sanity.
And if I don’t know where her doll’s purple shoes are with the yellow flower at all times, there is going to be a tantrum.
And if I don’t keep up with her therapy, care, and education plans—She suffers.
Being a mom changed me. It made me worry about tomorrow, and about myself, and what if I am not here.
Some would say I am not fun anymore because the kids go to bed early and we spend our time with them instead of partying like it is 2004.
And I don’t recover the way I did in my twenties.
While I used to remember everything I needed and everywhere we had to go, now I feel like I am always forgetting something.
Like why I walked into a room.
Putting gas in my car.
And I go to bed early because she is going to be up at 7 am, even if I keep her up until midnight.
And as much as I need a vacation, we never have enough PTO left to take one as a family.
Because this is our life now as morning people who are organized, who follow routines, worry, and spend all of our money and PTO on taking care of children.
This is us. Not just me.