Time Change

You may have already figured this out, but we are early risers in my house. My alarm rings at 4:00AM, and generally, I am out of bed within ten minutes, getting dressed in the clothes that thoughtful-me put out for early-morning-me the night before.

My indulgent husband usually follows shortly thereafter.

Often by 5:30, we hear the first stirrings of the littlest scalawag, and around 6:00 we will start to hear the biggest scalawag making car-motor sounds while he is imagining some kind of early morning ralley.

Well. In France, we changed our clocks to Daylight Savings Time on Saturday night. And my world was rocked. For one, I could not, for the life of me, drag myself out of bed when my alarm went off on Sunday morning. Not to mention that because we had enjoyed a bit of a warm spell, we slept with the window open as wide as it could get, as if it were the middle of July… The cool morning air made it impossible for me to even put a hand outside of the covers.

At one point, around 5:30, my husband came to make sure I was still alive (I was, but just barely), since I hadn’t moved.

Everything that I usually do between 4AM and 7AM got pushed back.

I figured I would catch up on Monday. Hah! Fat chance. So I’ll catch up on Tuesday. Hahahahah!

So today is Wednesday, and I was finally able to pop out of bed at a time that would allow me to actually work and I have three days of things to catch up on.

And you know what? I’m totally cool with that.

Aging and Jet Lag

I remember the very first time I experience jet lag at 18 years-old. It was actually kinda fun. I had never felt so tired in all my life, and while I have never been opposed to a nap, this was one time that I could have actually fallen asleep standing up. Then, by the time I woke up from my little nap everything had worked itself out and I was onboard with the new time zone.

Since then, it has gotten progressively more difficult. Now, just the one hour of springing forward or falling back puts me out of commission for longer and longer.

Whereas there are other aspects of aging which I find irritating: the brain fog, the not remembering where I put my keys…I am pleasantly surprised to discover that I am not irritated with myself for not being able to catch up to the time change as quickly as I used to.

Being Gentle with Ourselves

Last year, I wrote about how I wanted the word “Tenderly” to be one that I could use to describe how I treated myself. It’s funny, because in an upcoming podcast, LiElla admonishes us to “be gentle with ourselves.”

This seems like such a small thing as I write about it here, but in my heart it feels like a big freakn’ deal. I’m not beating myself up because I woke up late three days in a row.

So that’s why I haven’t written lately. Because I have been sleeping through my usual blogging hours. We’re almost back on track. I’ve missed you!!!

Published by Lily Fields

I am passionate about contentment. This is a challenge, because I am equally passionate about progress. I get up at 4:00AM to chip away at a solution to this monolithic problem: how to make progress on my contentment. Born and raised in the USA, I married a French philosophy teacher in 1999. We have lived in France since 2007. We stayed young and carefree until life threw us two curveballs in the form of little humans one after another in 2015 and 2017 respectively. Now I am a slightly older, slightly more exhausted version of myself, but with mystery stains on my walls and a never-ending pile of laundry.

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