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Moms, I hate mornings.
Like, truly. I have a beef with mornings.
They come in hot and aggressive, every single day, without consent or warning.
One minute you’re dreaming of dancing with mermaids in a sun-drenched lagoon, the next you’re being slapped awake by a tiny human who’s demanding a very specific kind of toast cut the wrong way at your own peril.
Can we just be honest with each other for a second?
Mornings are HARD.
Especially when you’re the one responsible for everyone’s mood, shoes, hydration, and breakfast preferences before your own eyes have even adjusted to the light.
I used to start most mornings in a blur of frustration, silently screaming into my coffee mug (or let’s be real, sometimes the pillow).
And that mom-guilt would sneak in before 8 a.m. — “Why can’t I be more patient? More prepared? More… Pinterest-y?”
But here’s the truth I had to learn the hard way:
I don’t need to fix my mornings. I just need to anchor them.
And that’s where my weird little 3-minute hack comes in.
It’s not fancy. It doesn’t require a sunrise yoga flow or brewing organic matcha while whispering affirmations into the wind.
It’s just three minutes to stop the chaos before it swallows me whole.
Minute 1: Sit + Breathe (Stillness)
I sit up in bed — eyes still crusty, hair resembling a bird’s nest — and take five deep breaths.
No one is allowed to talk to me until I do this. (Okay, they try not to talk to me.)
Minute Two: Senses Check
I mentally check in with my five senses:
- What do I see? (Sunlight on the wall, a sock monster on the floor)
- What do I hear? (Birds. Or my daughter arguing with her stuffed animals)
- What do I feel? (Soft blanket, cool floor under my feet)
- What do I smell? (Coffee. Always coffee.)
- What do I taste? (Sometimes toothpaste. Sometimes leftover crackers from bedtime.)
This little grounding ritual snaps me into the moment not the fantasy of what I wish mornings looked like, but the real, messy magic of right now.
Minute Three: Mantra Magic
I whisper a tiny intention to myself. Something like:
- “I’m allowed to be a work in progress.”
- “We’re going to be okay — even if the banana breaks.”
- “Let it be messy. Let it be enough.”
That’s it. Three minutes. No perfection, no pressure, just a lifeline before the morning tsunami hits.
So if you’re like me — allergic to mornings, chronically overwhelmed, and deeply in love with your kid but also kinda want to hide from them before 7 a.m. — I see you. I am you.
Let’s stop pretending we’re crushing it before coffee.
Let’s meet the morning with a breath, a little grace, and maybe a toast cut the right way this time.
