My mornings are looking different now and Lord— I thank ya!
For years, I was the morning parent. My husband always had to be at work before school even started, so he typically handled after-school pick-up. Which meant that in the mornings, it was just me.
My alarm would go off and before I even had a moment to gather myself, I was responsible for gathering everyone else. I got the kids up, dressed, fed, backpacks packed, hair brushed, teeth brushed, and out the door. I have rotated between chaotic school drop-off lines and cold mornings at the bus stop. I was the cruise director of chaos all before 8 a.m.
And honestly? I hated it.
I complained about it more often than not. I tried everything to make it easier. Timers. Printed morning routines. Visual schedules taped in their rooms and displayed in the hallway. I even created a playlist for our drive — affectionately titled “The E-Mix.” I tried structure. I tried rewards. I tried bribery. But nothing erased the fact that I was exhausted and resentful of starting every single day in survival mode.
There were some mornings that, looking back, I’m not proud of. I was a monster in the AM, stressed about finances—God forbid the kids lose one more pair of gloves—and wondering where the money was going to come from to replace them. That feeling weighed heavily on me, but what else could I do besides wake up the next day and try again? And, of course, that’s when Mom guilt rears its ugly head. Those early days were rough, and just knowing we made it through is a relief in itself.
Before my daughter’s autism diagnosis, mornings could be even more chaotic. I’d frantically search to make sure I had a clean pair of the “right” socks for her. I would have to go back and forth convincing her that a change in our morning routine was okay—because the change was for the good of all of us. And mind you, said change had already been in effect for six months.
That was then.
But now? Things look completely different.
Since my husband retired from the military, he has stepped fully into the role of morning parent. And he does it so well, y’all! (And no, I’m not just saying that because I want him to keep doing it.)
Him taking over this responsibility feels like someone lifted a weight that was settled permanently on my shoulders. Just knowing I’m not alone in the mornings eases the pressure. And the gift of a few extra minutes of sleep? Life changing.
The mornings are still busy. Three kids will always bring hustle and bustle. Folders still go missing. Someone still can’t find their library book. But the difference is partnership, shared responsibility, and breathing room.
And in this season, that feels especially significant.
With everything happening in the world right now, I’ve wrestled with whether to even say this out loud because I never want my gratitude to feel like someone else’s pain. When That Man and his administration made the decision to escalate tensions with Iran, I quietly exhaled. Not because I’m indifferent to what’s happening. Far from it! But because my husband is no longer the one who could be called to deploy at a moment’s notice.
We still live within the military community. Our closest friends. Our church family. The people we do life with every day — many of them still wear the uniform. And while I am deeply grateful for retirement and the slower pace it has given our home, my heart is with those who don’t have that same relief.
This season has reminded me that sometimes the blessings we pray for don’t come in grand gestures. Sometimes they look like slower mornings. Shared alarm clocks. A husband making “daddy breakfast”. A wife sleeping in.
These days I’m grateful for partnership.
For rest.
For retirement.
For the quiet mercy of not carrying it all alone.
And Lord — I thank You.
xoxo,
Alexis
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