Back in the day, when I was a freewheeling ladypreneur who set her own rules and schedule, before the baby, and nap time schedules, and play dates… Back when all I had to do was take care of me, and I did a damn fine job of doing it…. Wayyyy back then, I had a lovely little meditation practice. I would wake up, put on the tea pot, and sit on my meditation cushion in front of the floor to ceiling window in our Brooklyn apartment. I had a little altar, with all the things I thought belonged there — a big ceramic buddha head, some candles and crystals, all the good stuff. For 15-20 minutes, I would sit and focus on my breath or listen to a guided meditation. I felt grounded and I felt good.
But that was oh so long ago. Now, my daily schedule is dictated by an adorable, opinionated creature with needs of her own. She wakes up in the ungodly hours between 6 and 7am, and so begins our daily adventure. During her naps, I cram in as much relaxation and self-care as I can, while still keeping myself fed, my business afloat, and my house in (relative) order. Needless to say, that leaves little time for my meditation practice of yore, and that hasn’t been a big deal… until now.