The Season That Never Ended

I thought I was writing a blog about waking up at 4:15 this morning.

Somewhere around the middle of writing it, I realized I wasn't.

I was writing about a season of my life that never actually ended.

And honestly...

I don't think I'm the only one.

Last night, I sat down and made a plan. Would it die in two weeks like a New Year's resolution - I don't know... but I made it anyways.

For years, I've felt like I've been trying to fit twenty pounds of sugar into an eight-pound bag. Work. Three girls. Horses. Students. Lessons. Laundry. Dishes. Rodeos. Dreams.

Every day I'd tell myself I'd get to the things that mattered to me... tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'd ride another horse.

Tomorrow I'd write that blog.

Tomorrow I'd organize the barn.

Tomorrow I'd work on my business.

Tomorrow became my favorite excuse.

So I started wondering...

What if I can't create more hours in the day?

What if I can only rearrange the ones I already have?

Normally, Dan does the morning feed chores. It's always worked for us. But what if I stopped trying to steal time from my evenings... and started borrowing it from my mornings instead?

So I set my alarm for 4:15.

Morning feed.

Pick stalls.

Ride one horse.

Come inside.

Wake the girls.

Get everyone ready.

Start work.

Simple enough... right?

Now, I already know there's one person reading this with a grin on his face.

"Whitney... I've already put in half a day's work by the time you're awake."

Well...

You're probably right. 😂

But yesterday, 4:15 wasn't even an option.

Today it was.

Now before you picture one of those perfect morning routine videos...

Let's be honest.

I hit snooze.

Three times.

I accidentally scrolled TikTok for five minutes.

Walked into the barn in my pajamas, only to realize we'd forgotten to soak the alfalfa and beet pulp the night before.

Not exactly the inspiring start I had planned.

But the aisle got cleaned.

Two stalls got picked.

Cobwebs swiped.

Horses fed.

Elderlies turned out.

Dan turned out the rest. Bonnie showed up to help too.

Then came inside...

Laundry got started.

Showered.

Pancakes got made.

And for what feels like the first time in forever...

I drank my coffee while it was still hot.

Honestly...

I'll take it.

The funny thing is...

My life doesn't really start until about five o'clock.

Up until then, everybody is living their own lives. I'm at work, either in the office or at home remotely - handcuffed to a computer screen.

Everybody is where they're supposed to be.

Then my car pulls into the driveway or hit the laptop standby button...

And boom.

What's for Dinner questions arise... or Start the dinner on the schedule, if I rocked the mealplanning that week.

Homework, because none of us wants to be those parents during the school year.

Trying to make sure each girl gets a little one-on-one time because these years are flying by.

Lessons, if it's a Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. Otherwise, our girls need saddle time too.

Laundry.

Dishes.

Getting everybody ready for tomorrow.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that...

Whitney quietly disappears.

By the time I finally crawl into bed, my body is completely exhausted.

Ironically...

That's when my brain decides it's finally time to wake up.

That's when all the ideas show up.

Ride another horse.

Write that blog.

Work on the business.

Organize the barn.

Dream a little bigger.

My mind is ready to GO.

My body is waving the white flag.

For years, I wore "I'll sleep when I'm dead" like it was something to be proud of.

Lately, I'm starting to think all it really did was teach me how to survive.

And that's when this blog took a turn I wasn't expecting.

I don't think I'm trying to become a morning person.

I think I'm trying to stop carrying the guilt to bed every night.

The guilt of another horse I didn't ride.

Another goal I put off.

Another promise I made to myself that got pushed to tomorrow.

I'm not chasing productivity.

I'm chasing peace.

And I think that's when it finally hit me.

I never really left new mom survival mode.

You know the season.

You eat last.

You shower last.

You buy yourself new clothes last.

You schedule yourself last.

You dream last.

At first, that's motherhood.

It has to be.

Babies need us.

Little kids need us.

Survival is part of that season.

But nobody ever tells us when it's okay to leave survival mode.

So we don't.

We just... stay there.

Even when the babies aren't babies anymore.

And I think that's where I've been.

Not because I don't love being a mom.

I do.

I'd do absolutely anything for my girls.

But before I was their mom...

I was Whitney.

I had dreams.

Goals.

Passions.

Those things didn't disappear.

I just slowly moved them to the bottom of the list.

The longer we've been involved in junior rodeo, the more I've caught myself watching the moms.

Not with jealousy.

With admiration.

I've watched them pull into the arena with their hair done and a little makeup on.

I've watched them have on the cutest outfits, or the baddie comfy thrown together threds... showing their personality - not just leftovers from 10 years ago.

I've watched them enter the barrel jackpots after cheering for their kids.

I've watched them swing a leg over a horse during warm-ups instead of standing at the fence.

I've watched them win checks.

I've watched them lose checks.

But more than anything...

I've watched them continue becoming themselves while raising their families.

Every single time, I catch myself thinking...

"I want that too."

Not because I need another buckle.

Or another check.

But because I miss that version of me.

The woman who had dreams she was actively chasing instead of always cheering everyone else toward theirs.

Then another realization hit me.

I spend a lot of time telling my girls and my students...

Respect yourself.

Show up for yourself.

Set goals.

Work hard.

Enter, even if you're scared.

You've got this.

I've said those words hundreds of times.

Maybe thousands.

Then I had to ask myself...

Whitney... when was the last time you actually listened to Whitney?

When was the last time you showed up for yourself?

Maybe this 4:15 alarm isn't really about becoming a morning person.

Maybe it's my way of finally putting my money where my mouth is.

Maybe it's me showing my girls and my students that growth doesn't stop because you become the coach...

Or the mom...

Or the woman everyone depends on.

I don't want them to only remember the things I told them.

I want them to remember the things they watched me do.

Because they're always watching.

They're watching how I handle hard things.

How I talk to myself.

How I treat my body.

How I chase my dreams.

How I show up when life gets busy.

Maybe the greatest lesson I can teach them won't happen in the middle of an arena.

Maybe it'll happen at 4:15 on a Tuesday morning.

Maybe your answer isn't a 4:15 alarm.

Maybe it's something completely different.

But I wonder how many of us are still living by routines we created just to survive a season...

...when that season has already passed.

Maybe we don't need more hours.

Maybe we just need permission to make room for ourselves again.

Not instead of our families.

Right alongside them.

Because I have a feeling everyone around us benefits when we stop running on empty.

Maybe we're a little more patient.

A little more present.

A little more joyful.

A little more ourselves.

So tonight...

The alarm is set for 4:15 again.

Will I hit snooze?

Probably.

Will I forget something?

Almost certainly.

But tomorrow morning, I'll get another chance to practice what I've been preaching.

Not because I think waking up early will magically change my life.

But because maybe the season that needed to end...

...was never motherhood.

Maybe it was survival.