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So, it seems that just about every time I consciously try to instill some discipline in my life, my inner brat decides it’s time to come out and cause some havoc. I call her Binky. She is the one that has historically been blamed for my lost keys, wallets, purses and any general disorganization that I am experiencing in my life. When I am just inspired to be disciplined (I “feel like it”) Binky is dormant and leaves me alone. But when it’s an effort to be disciplined (I don’t want to be), she shows her face and helps me rebel.

Lest you think I am seriously whacked, let me just say that, no, Binky is not a second personality and, yes, I do know she’s not real. But many times, when I am making an effort to make change in my life, there is some part of me that just says, “Oh yeah? I don’t think so.” Out of the 13 possible nights to practice my new habit of getting to bed earlier, I would estimate that I have been successful 5 times. Not great. On the nights that I have been successful, I have been of the mindset that taking care of physical self is more important than having “Mommy Time” or doing things that help my mental health (like staying up waaaay too late sewing and watching mindless TV. Okay, the mindless TV probably isn’t the best idea but it helps me unwind…).

So the trick becomes finding the trigger that “flips the switch” to wanting to be disciplined. What self-talk do I need to engage in to get me there? What do I need to look at to get me to grasp the importance of what I’m trying to do? What will it take to get me to the all-or-nothing place where staying up is not an option? Well, the headache that has been working my last nerve all day is one thing. And the pathetic attempt at a workout is another. And then there’s the “Oh-Dear-God-Make-It-Stop” feeling when Petunia decides not to follow directions and/or decides to throw a fit. Out go the creative, make-her-think-it’s-her-idea parenting techniques and in marches the “You will do it because I said so.” Not my proudest moments. The bottom line: I need to tell myself that the only option is to march my Mommy Butt in there and go to bed when it’s time to. I have a DVR and I know how to use it. I finish my chores while Petunia and Daddy are getting her ready for bed. I do not have anything pressing that I *need* to get done after she goes to bed. Only the desire for time to myself. And, for right now, that has got to take a back seat to sleep. Up next time: more on how to flip the switch.

Update: I am going to bed. 10 minutes after goal time. Better late than later!