Adventure vs. Routine

It’s been another one of those mornings. I woke up after having dreamed the dreams of a spy all night long – way too many spy shows recently – and I felt a little bored with my life. My son was already awake and my husband went in to say good morning before he left for work. I let myself lay in bed for just a minute more and briefly recapped my dreams: zip lining, kung fu, breaking in and copying hard drives, and lots and lots of running and hiding. And I thought to myself: I am so bored. 

I know full well that I absolutely do not want the life of a spy. My daily “missions” consist of budgeting, figuring out how to piece together a meal with the ingredients we already have in our kitchen rather than venturing out to the store with my eleven month old son, and trying to keep the rest of the household quiet so that naps go undisturbed. And that’s really enough adventure for me. 

My restlessness has to come from my inability to sit down and write on a consistent basis. When I write, I can have whatever adventure I want. As soon as I sit down at my computer or in a quiet location with a pen and notebook, my son stirs in his crib, or the dryer signals that it’s finished drying the towels, or the mailman comes and the dogs are convinced he’s a zombie and the entire neighborhood must be warned. 

Is there some secret that mothers out there have found to accomplish it all? Is there a perfected schedule out there that helps these moms have time for hair appointments, manicures, hour long work outs, and a diet that doesn’t consist of grabbing a piece of fruit to eat as quickly as possible while your child is momentarily distracted? Or is the khaki-clad, clear skinned, pearl accessorized soccer mom a mere media fantasy? 

If someone has the answer, I would really like to know. Each day I do the best I can, but I have not been able to find a way to work out, shower, complete my to do list, entertain my son, have dinner ready when my husband gets home from work, and finish my novel/edit/blog in one day on a consistent basis. If I try to wake up early, my son somehow senses it. If I try to stay up late, it’s near impossible for me to wake up in the morning. 

Assuming that no one sends me the secret formula, what do I give up? My clean house? My clean self? My mental health? What is okay to let go? And does it ever get any better? I know it doesn’t get easier, but will it get better? My son will eventually be able to entertain himself. My husband will eventually be able to work more and more from home. But do other activities pop up to fill in that free time? I really expected to be able to accomplish more than I do now.