Bad nights happen to me. Bad mornings are my choice.

My baby has never been the greatest sleeper, which is unfortunate because I have lived my entire adult life being sleep-obsessed. I prefer to get 8-9 uninterrupted hours of sleep with blackout curtains, white noise, and magnesium + melatonin supplements before bed. It was certainly a rude awakening (pun intended) when my four month old started waking up several times per night and didn’t stop until … well, she hasn’t stopped even five months later. 

I have had more mornings than I can count where I got the most awful night of sleep, groaned when she woke up for the day at 7 AM, complained about how tired I feel, and sat around for the rest of the day angry and tired about the previous night and equally anxious for the night ahead. 

Yet, I have also had mornings (certainly fewer) that I wake up after a hard night of sleep for my baby, and I decide to win the day. I thank God the night is over and set out to enjoy the day whatever it looks like. I spend the morning making breakfast instead of complaining in bed, I go for a stroller walk outside instead dragging my feet, and I eagerly make my chai tea latte at home knowing that I might need an extra boost for the day.

Regardless of what the morning looks like, one thing is for certain. Whether I got a good night of sleep last night or a bad night of sleep, nothing can be done presently to change that. However, I have the choice to say that I would like to start a new day fresh or cling onto the night and allow it to impact the tone for the rest of my day. I have chosen both at different points in time, but I know the biggest lesson is this: there was a choice. 

Bad nights might just “happen to me” but bad mornings are always my choice; the same way that great mornings are my choice.