Let’s get one thing straight: I am not waking up to silence, sun salutations, and a steaming cup of herbal tea. I’m waking up to a toddler.
My almost-two-year-old is, lovingly, chaos in a can. He doesn’t wake up at the same time every day. He doesn’t wake up in the same mood every day. Some mornings, the first word out of his mouth is “cheese,” followed by the world’s most urgent “more” in baby sign language. Other mornings, he’s a total love bug who just wants to burrow into my neck for an hour.
He also hates when I leave the room—whether I’m letting the dog out or grabbing coffee. So I’ve learned to feed the dog, take her out, and make my coffee before I even get him up, which means my slow morning ritual isn’t one long, elegant routine. It’s a patchwork. A rhythm I catch in fragments.
And you know what? That counts.
In Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), the morning is governed by the Lung system, which is all about breath, boundaries, and taking in fresh energy. When we launch straight into chaos (which—let’s be honest—parenthood often demands), our Qi can get scattered and our mood follows suit.
But slow mornings aren’t about perfection. They’re about presence. And presence is flexible.
Here’s how I (try to) weave in slow morning rituals—with a toddler on my hip and Bluey playing in the background.
1. Breathe Before the Demands Start
Sometimes this means a deep inhale while the coffee brews. Or two quiet breaths before I open his bedroom door. It’s not about meditating for 20 minutes—it’s about interrupting the autopilot.
Even one conscious breath is a pattern reset.
2. Warm the Belly, Soften the Edges
Cold food first thing in the morning? Big no-no in TCM. I start with something warm—even if it’s just a cup of coffee, tea or hot lemon water. It helps my digestion, grounds my energy, and honestly, just feels comforting.
Some days I make us both congee or scrambled eggs. Some days it’s warm leftovers. Either way, the warmth matters.
3. Micro-Moments of Stillness
The house may not be still, but I can be. Sometimes I light a candle while he’s watching a show or playing with trucks, and I just sit next to him and drink my coffee. No phone. No plans. Just a few sacred, ordinary minutes. Or if it is a stage-4 clinger kind of morning, I sit in our little recliner, hold him in my lap, grab a blanket and just snuggle him. He watches Bluey, I watch the breeze in the trees and the birds outside our living room window.
Stillness isn’t the absence of sound—it’s the presence of awareness.
4. Set a Quiet Intention
It might be while I pour my tea or in the middle of a diaper change—but I ask myself: What energy do I want to bring into today? Sometimes the answer is patience. Sometimes it’s softness. Sometimes (oftentimes) it’s simply survival.
Whispering an intention to yourself while reheating your coffee = spiritual practice, okay?
("You're a badass mom, you're doing great, and you WILL survive until naptime when you can go get a quick workout or yoga session in, OKAY KERRY?!?" )
Real Talk
Slow mornings don’t mean you’re not busy. They mean you’re choosing not to abandon yourself in the weeds. Even if you only get 30 seconds of stillness, that still counts. And if you need a little Bluey on in the background to get there, I see you.
Because when we soften into our mornings—even in the chaos—we make space for presence. And presence is what nourishes our Qi for the rest of the day.
So here's to the candlelit coffee corners, the reheated tea, the breath between bites of string cheese, and the love-soaked, wildly imperfect mornings that still get to feel sacred.