My bladder insisted I wake up before my alarm, 30 minutes early to be exact, and so I pried my eyes open at 5:30 and began my day. I made the child’s lunch and snacks for the day and packed them in her unicorn spaceship backpack. I woke the child from her dreams of the Cat in the Hat bringing her watermelons. She begged me to finish getting dressed and then come back to her so she could sleep a little longer, trying to engage the Snooze function on her Mom Alarm Clock. I told her I was already dressed and had my shoes on. She wouldn’t look. I allowed her three more minutes of rest.
When she was finally ready and in the car, wearing her cheetah ears headband, of course, we trekked across the city to her school. It’s the perfect school and worth the early morning drive, I remind myself. She offers me graham crackers from the back seat. Such a sweetheart. We stopped by the school’s rooster pen, a pause in the rush to her building. There’s always time to say good morning to the rooster and hear him crow. And with a hug, she ran to join her classmates and I headed back to the car, ready to trudge through the city’s early morning work commute.
But today I don’t have to rush to an office. No urgent client work or meetings. Today is just for me and my own work. But by the time I get back home I am already exhausted. I have already lived a full day in the life of a struggling mom and it is… 8:30 am. The house is empty. Well, except for the dog who needs treats because I walked into the kitchen, and the cat who desperately mews at the back door, begging for an outdoor life, and the other cat who looks at me like an intruder because I interrupted her nap with my presence.
I could go back to bed. The silent nest of blankets and pillows beckons me and offers at least a glimmer of settling a couple hours off of my six-year sleep debt. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. No. We will do our work. We have reached an agreement. But we will need some encouragement. We need to entice ourselves to our desk. I leave my reflection and start my ritual.
On the stove, on the back right burner, sits a small white tea kettle with the black silhouette of a leafless winter tree. It seems bleak, but it fits nicely with my permanent Halloween kitchen décor. I often imagine a murder of crows swooping to and from the empty branches. I fill the kettle with fresh water, just enough for one cup of tea. As the water boils, I pick today’s mug based on my mood and what I want to accomplish. Who am I today? I say into the mug cabinet. Ah, there I am, as I grab a mug of streaks of night sky and constellations. I want to feel connected. I pick my tea infuser in much the same way. Handbook for the Recently Deceased, it reads on the maroon book that dangles from the chain. The sequel didn’t have quite the same heart as the original film, though it did pack in the nostalgia. I fill the mesh ball with a blend of looseleaf black tea with cocoa and caramel bits, pour one drop of honey into the cup, and then when the whistle blows, the boiling water too. I give the mixture a stir with one of the smaller spoons in the drawer, and then wait for it to cool to my liking.
Now I can turn on my laptop. I can open my planner to my work list. It’s not accurate, so I add a few things I forgot to write last night. And I check off the few things that I already completed. Take her to school. Check. Now I’m on a roll. The tea is delicious. I am giving myself care and luxury in this cute little cup of caffeinated bliss. My eyes perk up. I have IDEAS. The dopamine is hitting. Look how productive I am! Look how great I am for not going back to bed!
My work is important, just as important as the work I do for my clients, and I deserve to treat myself well and do MY work. Tending to my own creative projects is a form of self-care. When I neglect my own work for too long, I get depressed. I lose a part of myself that I desperately need. But when I make time to focus on my art or my writing, I have better days, better moods, a better outlook on life, and over time create better work. The ritual of making tea helps me shift my mind and my mood into creative work mode. It overrides how tired I am and reminds me of my long-term goals. It’s part of a system that helps me work toward them. A very delicious, cozy, warm hug in a cute mug of a system. Each sip tells me to keep going. Each sip encourages the next line. Each sip brings me closer to finishing the project.
