I just put the baby back down to sleep, her belly full and head so heavy on my shoulder. At 5:30 a.m. the house is dark and full of the whoosh of white noise (we call it the hurricane as we are convinced that the more white noise machines we have going to more likely our children are to sleep). Chris just tiptoed in from the garage, returning from his daily morning coffee run and violin practice. And about the time that I opened up this blank post and tried to let myself relax enough to type the big boys emerged from the hallway, bright-eyed and wearing nothing except their Hogwarts cloaks. At our house we do not taking the morning hours laying down!

This week the sameness of our days is getting me down a little bit. Or perhaps not so much the sameness (because you know that routine makes my heart sing) but more likely that there is little predictable "off" time in my days. I feel busy all day but at the end of the day I often haven't done anything very mentally challenging. With the cooler mornings I'm especially missing my occasional habit of early morning writing at Starbucks. It was something I would do in the summer too but it was always so much cozier when I was wearing a cardigan. I'd arrive around 5 a.m. and sit in the warm light next to a big window looking out into the dark of the morning. Over a cup of coffee or two I'd write blog posts, edit a podcast, and check off to-do items. I'd be back home by 7:30 or 8 a.m. feeling productive and energized. Like so many other things, the first time I get to write at Starbucks again I might cry.

The all-consuming, emotional time of having a baby makes me so eager to write both to capture this time but also to draw on big emotions. Yet when do you have less time than with a baby? Haa – maybe when you have a baby and are also managing kindergarten and second grade distance learning?

And now it's 6:30 a.m., the house is lighting up, Chris is making breakfast for the boys, and I'm watching Maeve kick around in her crib on the monitor. It's time to start another day.