I stood in my kitchen yesterday after running errands with my teenagers, and I could feel it… the overwhelm. My God, was I overstimulated. I elbowed my way through the kitchen, trying to pull together a far-too-late lunch for myself. One teen decided they were going to make scrambled eggs and was asking for instructions, while my 11-year-old twins raced downstairs (still in their pajamas) and immediately began fighting over the toaster.
From the other room, I could see Ben keeping a safe distance, peeking in as if to say, “You okay?” At that moment, the overstimulation was just… too much. We were four days out from Christmas, and I had been very chill up until then. But suddenly I blurted out (slightly quieter than a yell)“I am overstimulated!”
I instructed the twins to sit at the table and wait until I finished. I made sure my teen knew how to proceed with their scrambled eggs without burning the house down. Then I picked up my lunch and set it on the kitchen table before thinking… Why am I putting myself in the middle of all of this and making myself so accessible? I grabbed my plate and headed to my cute little office (my haven) right off our bedroom.
Ben quietly snuck off to his haven: our heated, detached garage that doubles as his office, man cave, and sanctuary. I mean, the guy gladly took on four more kids and pours so much of himself into them. He deserves an escape too. He even named it The Sane Asylum.
I ate my lunch, opened my 2026 agenda, and began to make a plan… a routine.
Here’s the thing: I thrive on routine. It is my secret sauce. I’m an early riser. I like my healthy meals. I like my sparse social schedule. I like goals and checking things off a list. Routine makes me tick. It makes me a better mom, a better wife, and honestly… it makes me successful.
In fact, I made a conscious effort to let my routine go from the day the kids finished school until… well, today (it’s December 29th as I write this). I think I wanted to show everyone that occasionally I can be laid back (insert the “I’m a cool mom” quote from Mean Girls, mixed with the squiggly smile emoji). But in all honesty, I know myself. A routine is how I maintain an identity outside of motherhood. It’s how I put my oxygen mask on first. It’s how I stop the doom scrolling. It’s how I keep my mind and body healthy and my soul quiet.
So that little episode in the kitchen yesterday wasn’t a bad thing. If anything, it was the exact signal I needed to re-establish a routine (that, plus some stomach trouble telling me to lay off the Christmas sweets).
Yes, things will be a bit more flexible until the kids go back to school on January 5th. But today, I set my alarm, ate the right things, made it to the gym, and am hammering out some work. And wow… do I feel better.
At the end of the day, it’s nice to take your hands off the wheel for a little while… gorge on food, binge shows and movies, lose track of time and what day it is. But bringing back structure is what’s going to move me toward my goals, both big and small.