Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

Before I became a stay-at-home mom, I was a productivity junkie. I would obsess over my performance numbers at work and each day was an intense game to increase my performance. When I was at home, I used to think that making the bed everyday was pointless. I worked full-time and I tried to conserve every free moment that I could. I could never understand why people bothered to make the bed when they’re just going to tear up the covers and sleep in it hours later. I was always under the impression that making the bed was a waste of precious time. Apparently a lot of the population feels the same way. When Hunch.com was still around, they surveyed 68,000 people. Of those 68,000, only 27 percent of people made their own beds. 59 percent didn’t make their beds at all and 12 percent paid someone else to make it. I used to be part of the 59 percent. My opinion changed when I became a stay-at-home mom.

After I became a stay-at-home mom to my beautiful daughter, I no longer had anything to measure my productivity. When I had worked, I would feel accomplished each time I completed a task. I could track my progress, accuracy, and speed through daily reports. At home, there is no program to calculate my productivity. I decided that I wanted to make the bed every day so that I would feel accomplished. In his 2014 commencement speech at the University of Texas, Navy SEAL William H. McRaven said, “If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed. If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another.” Even if I have a day where I’m not able to clean the rest of our home because I’m too busy caring for my daughter, I feel like I’ve accomplished something in the first few minutes after waking up.

Another reason I make the bed every day is because it makes the room look clean. I realized that the whole room can be immaculate but if the sheets are bunched in a messy pile on the bed, then the entire room looks messy. In the survey conducted by Hunch, they found that 71 percent of the people who made their beds were happy. On the contrary, 62 percent of people who did not make their beds were unhappy. Many factors could contribute to the drastic difference in satisfaction but there may be a correlation between happiness and making the bed. I know it helps me feel better. Once my bed is made, I feel like I’ve stepped into a catalog. It brightens my day and puts me in a better mood.

Finally, making the bed each day has been a simple and vital addition to our daily routine. In the morning, after my daughter and I wake up, I change her diaper and then put her in the crib in our room so that I can make the bed. After that, my daughter and I go to the kitchen and have breakfast. Routines are an important part of raising happy children. Making the bed gives her a sense of stability and consistency. An article about routines on MomMd quoted Dr. Peter Gorski, an assistant professor of pediatrics at Harvard Medical School. He said, “Knowing what to expect from relationships and activities helps children become more confident.”

I am so grateful to have joined the 27 percent of people who make their beds. I am glad that I have the opportunity now to set the foundation for my daughter’s future so that one day she may adopt this simple habit and reap the benefits. Luckily, she’s already benefiting from my example. If a simple morning habit can increase my happiness, elevate her sense of security, and boost her confidence, then it’s certainly time well spent.

Sources:

Asher, Liza. “The Importance of Routines for Children.” MomMD – Women in Medicine! N.p., n.d. Web. 15 Feb. 2017.

Dawn, Randee. “What’s the One Simple Morning Task That Will Change Your Life?” TODAY.com. TODAY, 27 Aug. 2015. Web. 15 Feb. 2017.

Dutton, Judy. “Make Your Bed, Change Your Life?” Psychology Today. N.p., 16 Aug. 2012. Web. 15 Feb. 2017.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Megan Whitty

Megan is a stay-at-home mom and wife. Before she became a stay-at-home mom, she was a certified pharmacy technician. Her opportunity to stay home with her daughter has allowed her to pursue her passion for writing. She writes for Her View from Home and is also a Spoke Contributor on Red Tricycle. When Megan isn't writing, she's hanging out with her one year old, trying out new craft ideas from Pinterest, and experimenting with toddler-approved recipes.

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading