I'm a serious owl.
Like, a serious, serious owl.
And while there are studies which link owlness to genetics, mostly, I'm an owl because I'm a little bit selfish and a lot a bit lazy.
Are you privy to the owl and lark sleep metaphors? While I'm a recent-declared owl, it's something I've known for a while. These terms are used to assess your sleep patterns, like, as an owl, I usually don't crawl into bed until midnight (at the earliest) and my head doesn't even hit the pillow until at least 1 a.m. Larks (aka, that annoying bird variety) on the other hand, greet the sunrise with the same zest I have for the moon and usually turn in when most of us owls are just warming up.
All your life you've probably been a morning or night person, well now, you're a bird of some sort. Jump on the bandwagon, it's fun.
I've been pretty comfortable in my owl status for most of my life. I went to PM kindergarten, made sure to take easy morning classes in high school so I wouldn't have to pay attention (except that year I had calculus first period, yeah, that was a big old fat C-) and didn't bother signing up for a college class unless it started after 9 a.m. This worked for most of my life.
There was the occasional 5:30 a.m. softball conditioning during the winter (I naively thought there was some kind of rule or law that would protect me from such torture, alas, I was wrong), not to mention my best friend Lauren trying to wake me up for a 7 a.m. jog after a long night of partying (she is a SERIOUS lark), but for the most part, my owlness has never been a cause of concern.
|This photo depicts one of the last times|
I was successfully a lark. I was a person
with good sleeping habits. I also think I
look thinner as a lark. This could just
be wishful thinking, however.
The only time in my life I've been a successful lark was during my first year as a copy editor with the Troy Daily News. On Mondays we had to get our butts in the office at 5 a.m., coupled with a 30+ minute commute meant a wake-up call before 4 a.m. Don't worry though, I got to sleep in the rest of the week, a whole extra hour. It took some adjusting, but I was a full-fledged lark for almost an entire year of life, until our deadline changed and required shifts of the owl variety, the 1-2 a.m. kind.
Even after becoming a mommy, I've enjoyed my late nights. With Pear turning in sometime between 8-9 p.m. (and my husband following soon after her), I get a good three hours to myself at night to defrazzle from the day, destress, blog, bake, watch all my terrible television and just enjoy some me time. I love my me time. I need my me time. I've just always thought I had to have my me time at night, because any kind of time before 7 a.m. would just be torture.
Well, friends, things are about to change around here.
I've accepted a new, kick-ass editing opportunity that while allowing me to work from home, will be full-time again, which means this momma is going to start as early as she's allowed in order to allot plenty of family time in the early evening. This coupled with my goal to get my butt into at least some kind of shape (even if that shape is only five pounds less and still curvy), means my owlish ways are going to have to come to a halt.
It's going to be bad, folks.
Really, really bad.
I've got two weeks to whip my owl behind into lark shape, but don't worry, I won't be doing this cold turkey. Not only have I consulted with several larkish friends, I've gotten tips and pointers from a few pros of the medical variety, so I'm going to kick my owl habit one step at a time.
Tune in tomorrow for a look at all the ways I've been setting my body up for lark-failure and how I plan on beating them. (Not to mention some super simple ways to help you get some more sound Z's, I know all you mommas out there need that -- chubby, vegan or none of the above).