Part of the routine

Bedtime has gotten easier at our house recently. We follow a normal routine of potty, threats, potty, bath, PJs, threats, story time... OK, mostly kidding about the threats part. Mostly.

My little M-man has gotten accustomed to, and very happy with, the latter part of our schedule, which includes a book or two and then songs. I turn out his lights after our story, but leave the bathroom light on so his room isn't plunged into total darkness. I then ask the same question I ask every night -- what song do you want to sing? Each time, he says "I want two songs" and lists them in order (always the same ones, same order): "Hush little baby" and "Twinkle Little Star." He then tells me good night after I'm done, instead of stalling to get me to stay in his room. Progress indeed.

There's a nice comfort to the routine. Weeks ago, bedtime was often filled with resistance. I mean, really -- I can't wait to get to bed each night! But I remember so well hating going to bed as a kid...

I've been thinking about routines some lately, influenced in part by a book I'm reading, Born to Run. It is a great, great read, even if you are not that interested in running. It takes a hearty dive into the science of how humans were built to run as part of daily survival, and how far we've strayed into comfortable lives that include lethargy, disease, and obesity. I read it on the train during each commute, just few pages at a time, and it makes me want to get up, blow off work or whatever, and go run and run and run away from my end-of-winter spare tire, my grumpy end-of-winter attitude, workdays filled with sitting at a desk and just be free and energized. (Can you tell it's early March in snowy Chicago? Get us some spring already!)

I'm also turning 45 in a few weeks. I am a middle-aged chick. I don't love the number attached to my age, but I feel pretty good about how I feel and, yes, how I look - vain, right here! A sense of mortality has definitely crept up on me, and I find myself wanting to crush it -- like the way I'd expend every bit of energy I had at the end of a race to cross the finish line, running so hard I stumble right over that finish line and want to throw up.

I look at my nearly 2-year-old daughter and nearly 4-year-old M-man and think, I gotta stay young and healthy for you guys. I can't succumb to what I see around me -- drooping shoulders, paunches, defeated attititudes, prescription meds. I know that makes me sound like a jerk, but this is what I want. It's not about Botox (though, sometimes I think, hmm, maybe, and then I come to my senses)... it's about being strong and healthy, as much as I can control it.

But since I gotta live in the world I live in -- we all do -- I'm upping the yoga that I do to keep my rebellious back calm from sitting and hunching all the time. I'm upping my speedwork during running, not just choosing to do the easiest running all the time. My diet needs some work, so I'm upping the veggies and fruit and trying to drink more water. I'm really working to shake off stress, put down the stupid phone and enjoy those little times like songs with M-man.

Time to wake him up now. He was really, really grumpy when he woke up yesterday. Perhaps we both need  to shake up our routines with a morning song, too. :)