Slow mornings

Oct 23 2026

Remember mornings when drill sergeant you jump out of bed with the first alarm, ready to rally the troops and storm the castle? Dressed and raring to go, you get the coffee going, pull lunch fixings out of the fridge, let the dog out, holler up the stairs to shock everyone awake, feed the dog, grab cereal boxes out of the cupboard, pour yourself a cup of coffee and breathe for a moment. Sip, sigh, silence—then STAMPEDE! Arguing, laughing, screeching. Mom!! Where’s my kit bag?! I can’t find my tuba! Where’s my shoe!? Did you sign my permission slip? Can I buy school lunch today? Jackie and Ali both texted that they are. Cereal poured, some actually in the bowl, milk slopped, sink rattling with dishes. Can I take the car? Bye Mom! Doors slammed.

Then silence. Lukewarm coffee in hand, you lean against the counter and survey the leftover chaos. Breathe.

Another day started.

What are your mornings like now? Disturbingly quiet? Manufactured chaos? Peaceful yoga retreat?

The cereal lands in the bowl. Nobody’s looking for a tuba, shoe or book report. The coffee has a fighting chance of being enjoyed while it’s hot. The troops have moved out, although your inner drill sergeant may still be hollering about getting a move on.

The day has a chance to start quietly, slowly… slow mornings— slo-mo is the new word of the day.

Old habits? Sure, there are things to do, places to be, people expecting something. But more often than not there’s also time. Time to savor, to let the day gather a little momentum before you fully join in.

In the meantime, you have complete and utter permission to trade cereal boxes for avocados. To make yourself something lovely for breakfast and sit down to eat it. At the table… on a plate. You could even use the good china. On a weekday. Imagine.

Permission to take your coffee back to bed with a good book. Or take yourself out to your favorite café where someone else can attend to the crumbs. Put on music, call a friend, linger over the crossword. Discover what you fancy when nobody’s asking where their shoe is.

There will still be mornings that require your inner drill sergeant. But when a little room opens up, you’re allowed to enjoy it before finding something that needs doing.

And should you find yourself waiting for permission, there’s a slip below. You’ve signed enough of them over the years. This one’s for you.