Amidst the chaos of a baby’s first year, it’s hard to stay in any routine. We cook, work out, read books, all sporadically. Of course, I keep trying to maintain some sense of order and then I fail and try again (rinse and repeat). You think I’d get the hint, and I am slowly starting to let go of the need for a schedule or routine.
I think the best we can hope for are loose rituals, and those are mostly impromptu and accidental.
We have a ritual every morning. One of us goes in to get Mae after she’s woken up for the day (any time between 6-7AM) and we bring her in bed with us. We lay her between us and talk about the how the night went or the day to come. She stares at the woven art above our bed. We admire her little fingers and toes. We listen to her babbling and try to translate. But we start our day slowly, all still in our pajamas and warmth of our bed, even if it’s only for ten minutes.
I cherish this ritual that we have stumbled upon.