Life as a mother, a wife and, let’s face it, an adult woman in general is full of turbulence.  It’s beautiful and gross at the same time. And man, oh man, when is the chaos ever worse than in the morning, when you’re trying to get more than one human out the door looking civilized and smelling clean? (That struggle is real, girlfriend. Read more about mine here). Obviously, we don’t want to make that frenzied morning whirlwind even more chaotic.

But girl, do we ever. 

Good news, though: we can nip that right in the bud today. First things first: recognize that you are a powerful being. (And yes, I’m talking to you. And me). Certainly we can figure out how to harness our power effectively enough to combat hot-mess-syndrome, yes? (You better be nodding your beautiful head!). Of course we can.  As it turns out, taming the morning whirlwind and giving yourself a head start on having a good day starts with the little things. 

Having fallen on my face a few—ahem—a bazillion times trying to get off the Hot Mess Express, I’ve picked up some hacks on how to do this. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Tip #1: Plan tomorrow’s outfit the night before.

Nothing robs you of your power faster than not knowing what to wear and wasting precious minutes trying on outfit after outfit when you could be doing something more productive, like, I don’t know, eating breakfast?  That kind of furious outfit changing also often leads to a downward spiral into the land of “I have nothing to wear,” which is one stop before “Nothing looks good on me.”  Both places are to be avoided!  So when I say plan your outfit, I mean plan it to the last detail, including your accessories. I even lay out my gym clothes the night before, right down to my socks.   

If you have a particularly hectic work week, consider planning your entire week’s outfits on Sunday night, before the mayhem of the week begins. This strategy is particularly effective when you first create a rotating uniform of sorts. The “uniform” should be comprised of several pieces that you know look great on you.  Old faithfuls, I call them. At the office where I lawyer twice a week, Mondays and Fridays are business casual but Tuesday through Thursday we’re allowed to wear anything appropriate for being in public, including jeans and sneakers.  So my Monday “uniform” consists of four dresses that I feel great in.  If I want to get creative and wear something off-uniform on a Monday I certainly will.  But if I have no idea what to wear I fall back on the uniform.  Easy. Also, not time sucking.  Score!

Alternatively, you could outsource the whole thing and have your outfits (complete with accessories) shipped right to your door.  Talk about hassle free.  Heck yeah!

Tip # 2: Slay the Hair and Makeup Beast.

This is where the rubber meets the road. Unless you’re bald and allowed to wear ginormous sunglasses to work, the hair and makeup syndrome is a real B-word. When I was practicing commercial litigation for Big Law and working 70 hours a week, I remember attending a women’s networking event at which the keynote speaker was the global leader of one of the largest, banks on the planet. She spoke about the honest and real struggle our gender endures to look professional every day. She coined it, “The Hair and Makeup Handicap.” She snorted at the thought of daring to show up at her office without her hair and makeup done. “People would gasp and ask if I was ill,” she said. It’s funny because it’s true.

I left that event feeling refreshed by her raw honesty. Her cleverness at having identified the insidious nature of something seemingly so innocuous inspired me. Since then, I’ve reflected on the hours painstakingly spent on hair and makeup by womankind every day.  I’ve tested a few tricks on myself along the way and have learned how to get ready in half the time it used to take me, and mind you, I have wavy hair that must either be deliberately curled or straightened but cannot be left to its own devices.

Number one on my new best friend list: this wet-to-straight flat iron.  It will literally take your hair from wet to dry and straight in one step. I find that it works best if your hair has been air drying for about 15 to 20 minutes which, of course, is the perfect time to be putting on that outfit that you already picked out and doing your makeup. 

As a former sales director for the largest skincare and cosmetics company in the direct sales industry worldwide, I’ve learned a thing or two about makeup. Most importantly, I’ve learned that you can get ‘er done with as few as four products and in 10 minutes or less. And although I’d never advocate driving while putting on your face, I will say that my routine is so simple you could do it at a stoplight in your car. All you need is foundation, an eyebrow pen (or brow-colored eye shadow and an angled brush), mascara and a tinted lip balm. For my money, I love Sugar Rose.  It’s buttery smooth, super hydrating, and adds just enough color to make you look energized. Plus a mirror isn’t needed to apply it, which means I can slather it on as I’m walking into my destination.

Eyebrows matter the most! If you have time for nothing else, fill in your eyebrows.  Extra points if you can slap on some mascara. At the very least, you’ll look like you tried. You’ll also look awake, which is generally a good thing.

Does all of this stuff really matter?

Oh yes, my friend.  In addition to being a form of self-care, there’s another, deeper reason that all of this “vanity” stuff is important.  It’s yet one more way for you to step into your greatness. Be proud of how you were created. Could you go out looking like you just rolled out of bed, pants with zippers be damned?  Sure, you could.  Will you feel powerful?  Probably not. And that likely means you won’t act powerful, either.  

Don’t shrink away from the beautiful woman you are.  Be unapologetic about wanting to take care of yourself.  Living as your highest and best self means not trading away your beauty and strength just because you’re a mom or a wife now.  It’s ok to feel pretty. It’s ok to feel powerful. Your kiddos are watching everything you do. Show them that the greatest thing they can ever do is love themselves by demonstrating that you love yourself.

Who knew that choosing your outfit the night before and adding four cosmetics to your routine could be the first step to creating your ideal life? Sound hokey? I dare you to try it.

Go on with your cute self. And while you’re at it, let me know how it goes.

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Ok, in fairness, I didn’t throw it at him to hit him. I just threw it forcefully across the net and it went flying in his general direction. Thankfully, it landed at his feet without actually touching him. And he was very gracious when I apologized. “Did I say something to upset you?” he’d asked.

“No,” I’d grumbled. “I’m just frustrated with myself.” Or more specifically, with my seeming lack of ability on the tennis court. That day’s practice did not get any better, and ended with me letting out a Splash-Mountain-worthy scream when I missed yet another easy ball. I recall one of my teammates scolding me disdainfully from the neighboring court. “DEAL WITH IT!” I’d yelled back at her. But like a crazy lady. I can’t deny it. I acted like a crazy lady.

Walking off the court, I demanded to know from my coach if I could demote myself and move down a level. “No, Nikki,” he’d said patiently, shaking his head. “You’re already on the roster for this division. That’s against the rules.” I know that rule full well, of course.

“Well then can I get my money back?” I’d snapped. He looked me in the eye then. “You want to quit?” I jutted my chin out and crossed my arms. “Maybe. I suck.”

I’m laughing at myself as I recall the memory now.  (The way I say that, you’d think it was years ago.  It wasn’t.  It’s been a month, tops).  And while objectively one could say I did not display my best behavior, or that I showed up like a petulant, adolescent girl, I must admit I’m proud of my ability to freely release my emotions. Indeed, the way I behaved that day doesn’t bother me so much.

What I resist about this experience is the reason I melted down in the first place. It was that familiar feeling in the middle of my chest that once again had become a physical manifestation threatening to spill out of my eyes.

It was that voice repeating itself in my mind, over and over, “You’re not good enough. You don’t belong here.”

That creation is what did me in at practice that day, no doubt. And it didn’t stop there. My stinkin’ thinkin’ quickly spiraled into, “Why would anyone ever listen to you about the power of a positive mindset? Clearly, you don’t have one! Why would anyone take advice from you? How could anyone ever be inspired by you?”

I found myself desperately trying to claw my way back into being positive and graceful and then berating myself for not being able to do so.

My self-discovery trainer Ami says it’s like having your foot on the gas and the brake at the same time.

Yep. That’s a head-smacking, painfully accurate analogy if I’ve ever heard one.

You know, as gritty, determined and resilient as I am, my “I suck” moments sure are intense. You’ve been there too, right?  You know you’re powerful beyond measure, you know you’re wonderfully made, but it’s like someone has you handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged.  I’m naming this culprit the “You-Can’t Monster.”  We all have one.  She’s an insidious thing, lurking in our minds waiting to pounce on us anytime we think of stepping into our greatness.  

You know who I’m talking about. She’s always saying you can’t afford it, you don’t deserve it, you won’t be any good at it. She rolled her eyes at you when you considered jumping into that exciting direct sales business opportunity and ticked off on her mean little fingers all the reasons you wouldn’t succeed. She shook her head when you thought you might sign up to run a 5K and reminded you how hard it would be and how not athletic you are. And when you decided to put your soul on the internet and start a blog dedicated to empowering other women she raised her eyebrows at you and laughed.

I don’t know about your You-Can’t Monster, but mine is a real bitch.

So how do we combat her?  Can we combat her?  The answer, of course, is heck yeah, and here’s how.  First, we have to accept that our respective You-Can’t Monsters only exist because we created them.  Don’t get me wrong—we didn’t create them intentionally.  It happened slowly over time, the culmination of not-so-nice experiences dating back to when we were kids.  Someone told us the picture we colored wasn’t good enough or didn’t want us to play Four Square with them.  Someone else made fun of our ideas or slid away from us when we tried to sit next to them on the bench at lunch.  They told us our dark, curly hair looked stupid or that our outfit was ugly and before we knew it, a part of us started believing them.  And then it was done.  Your You-Can’t Monster was created and you didn’t even know it! 

But there’s good news.  What you create you can also discreate. (Is that a word?)  

Don’t worry.  No violence is necessary.  Ami, whose professional life is dedicated to training others how to harness their God-given power, helped me realize recently that my You-Can’t Monster only rears her head when I’m not being who I am. In other words, combating yours is as simple as remembering who you are.

You’re God’s daughter.    

Say what?  That’s right, girlfriend.  You’re God’s daughter.  Take a moment to really think about what that means.  You are fearfully and wonderfully made.  You are powerful beyond measure.  You have it all. 

I can guess what you might be thinking.  That’s it?  That’s supposed to erase years of self-doubt?  Look, I’m no expert and I don’t purport to have any empirical evidence to back me up, but yeah. I think it can. At the very least, it shuts my You-Can’t Monster right up. And it’s no wonder. What could she possibly say to that? “No, you’re not?” Ha. That’s like saying the sky isn’t blue.

In other words, she ain’t got nothin.’

During my most recent tennis match, she showed up and started running her mouth. But this time, I knew what to do. I said to her out loud (under my breath, mind you, so as not to alarm my opponents or my partner about the fact that I was literally talking to myself), “You can do whatever you want. I’m God’s daughter. I decide. I’m winning this point.”

And I did. After that, my partner and I went on to win many, many points and we won the match emphatically at 6-2, 6-3. (In a related story, that post-match glass of Sancerre tastes so much better when you win).

Try it. The next time your You-Can’t Monster shows up and starts throwing her annoying weight around to ruin your day, tell her what’s up. You’re God’s daughter. You decide. Ain’t nobody got nothin’ on you, beautiful.

It wasn’t the worst morning I’d ever had trying to get the kids dressed, fed and out the door on time while simultaneously trying to do the same for myself.  But it was one in which I had built in zero margin for error.  And with my husband traveling, such reckless abandon was, in hindsight, unadvisable.

It was all going fairly smoothly until it was time to actually leave.  The minute at which our Honda Odyssey tires must be rolling backwards down our driveway is inflexible; the bus pulls up to the stop to collect all of the neighborhood elementary school kids, including my daughter, at precisely 7:31 am.

Seven twenty-eight a.m. found me frantically pulling a wet-to-dry flat iron through my damp, poufy hair and yelling in the general vicinity of the first floor, “Socks and shoes on!”

“Okay!” My six-year-old daughter called back.  And then shortly thereafter I heard my son.  “I can’t find my shoes!”

Of course.  Right?  You saw that coming.

By now I was bounding down the stairs, simultaneously devising Plan B.  I knew we had a hand-me-down pair of sneakers in our shoe basket by the door and grabbed those, which, you guessed it, he scowled at and firmly announced his disapproval.  It was now 7:30 am and I ordered him tersely into the van. I threw the shoes in the back, figuring we’d just put them on when we arrived at his pre-school.

I got my daughter to the bus stop at the exact moment the bus was pulling up and barely slowed down enough to open the door for her to hop out.  (Side note:  I gotta say, as not cool as I am now that I legit drive a minivan, I totes love the automatic door feature).  And then we were on our way!  On time!  I felt I had avoided a crisis.

Alas, I didn’t get off so easily.

When we arrived at my son’s pre-school I cheerily advised him that it was time to put on his super-cool “other” shoes.  He promptly reminded me, “I don’t like those shoes!” (Just picture furrowed brows and clenched fists and a super adorable pout notwithstanding the brows and the fists).

“Well, we don’t have a choice,” I told him calmly.  “You can’t go barefoot, can you?”  I helped him put on the shoes and felt a familiar wave of guilt rush over me.  They were a tad snug.

“Mom, they don’t fit!”

“Yes, they do,” I insisted, loosening the Velcro.

“I can’t wiggle my toes!” he wailed.

“Well, I can’t either,” I said lamely, glancing down at my four-inch, leopard print pumps.  Totally not the same thing, I know.

The biting truth about this moment in which I found myself shoving my four-year-old’s size 11 foot into size 10 shoes because the sneakers that fit him properly were nowhere to be found when we (read: I, while barking out orders and balancing coffee, water, and protein shake in one arm) were rushing out the door is that it was totally my fault.  It was the culmination of one simple thing: unpreparedness.

Unpreparedness, my friends, is the number one culprit of all so-called “mom fails.”  Think about it.  If you had laid out your outfit the night before, down to the accessories; if you had the coffee ground and waiting to be brewed in the coffee maker the next morning; if you had lunches packed and shoes laid out, wouldn’t you be less likely to experience the one thing the next morning that will inevitably go wrong and lead to at least four other things going wrong in succession?

Oh yeah.  You betcha.

Like King Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes, I’m here to encourage you to learn from my mistakes without having to make them yourself.  Plus, a day of not berating ourselves for what we coulda, woulda, shoulda sounds peachy, yes?

It’s so simple, really.  If the bane of our existence as mothers is unpreparedness, then the solution, of course, is to be prepared.  

I promise you this isn’t rocket science (which, candidly, I know nothing about but it seems really, really complicated).  Getting off the Hot Mess Express and getting on the road to designing a life you love can begin with an act as simple as choosing your outfit the night before.  Being prepared is so simple when we choose it. We just have to be on purpose about it.

Plus, you already took the first step when you started taking back your time. Compound that by choosing preparedness, girlfriend.

Next stop: taming the morning whirlwind!

Are you on this bandwagon yet? Get on it, girl!