7 things boomers do in the morning that younger people roll their eyes at (but secretly envy)

You know that feeling when you visit your parents or an older neighbor and, by 9 a.m., they’ve already lived a whole extra day?

Meanwhile, you’re still waiting for the coffee to kick in, doomscrolling, and trying to remember where you left your keys.

Same.

As someone squarely in my forties who toggles between spreadsheets-in-a-past-life and trail runs before breakfast, I straddle the line.

I used to roll my eyes at certain “boomer” morning habits.

Now I borrow them—because under the surface, they’re systems.

Quiet, unflashy, repeatable systems that create momentum before the world starts asking for a piece of you.

Here are seven that get mocked, misunderstood, and—if we’re honest—envied for how well they work.

1. Rise early (and step outside)

Do you know that friend who chirps, “I already got my steps in!” while you’re still negotiating with your alarm?

I used to think early risers were simply wired differently.

Some are.

But what most boomers have is rhythm.

They wake up around the same time, seven days a week.

They don’t “catch up” on sleep by sleeping in; they go to bed earlier. Not sexy, but effective.

The move I envied most: they step outside.

Even if it’s just to putter on the porch or water a plant.

Morning light tells your body,

Hey, it’s daytime.

It helps your brain stop producing melatonin and sets the timer for when you’ll naturally feel sleepy later.

No biohacking required—just a few minutes under the sky while the kettle boils.

When I started doing this before my weekend trail runs—just a five-minute lap through the garden to check on the tomatoes—I noticed my mornings felt less foggy.

Less wrestling match with my brain. If “get up early” feels impossible, try “get up at the same time and go stand outside for three minutes.”

It’s the training wheels version of an early-bird life.

2. Make the bed before coffee

“If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.” That’s Admiral William H. McRaven, and he meant it as a metaphor for discipline and momentum.

I rolled my eyes the first time I heard it—and then I tried it. Turns out, starting with one completed task does something weirdly powerful to your brain.

It creates a small, immediate win. A proof point. A sense that you keep promises to yourself.

As McRaven said in his University of Texas commencement address, one small task completed sets off a chain reaction. 

Also: future-you loves walking into a tidy room at night. Your space reflects back a little calm, and calm is contagious.

If you share a bed, make it a team sport—one person pulls, one person smooths.

Fifteen seconds.

Rank your pillow karate-chops as optional.

3. Sit down for breakfast (at an actual table)

Younger me used to eat breakfast like it was a scavenger hunt—half a banana here, two bites of toast while answering email there.

When I worked as a financial analyst, the only consistent thing about my mornings was my calendar reminders.

An older colleague would show up with a simple, unglamorous plate: oatmeal or eggs, fruit, water. He’d sit down, eat it, and then start his day. No multi-tasking. No guilt.

Boomer breakfasts tend to be sturdy and repeatable.

Oatmeal with berries. Peanut butter toast. A veggie scramble.

Not trendy; dependable.

The win isn’t just nutrition—it’s the ritual. A quick sit-down anchors the morning.

It tells your nervous system, We’re starting. We can handle what’s ahead.

If you can’t swing a full meal, try a “mini-morning”: a glass of water, a few bites of something with fiber or protein, and sixty seconds to just sit. The pause is the point.

4. Read something on paper

I love the internet (it pays my bills), but my attention span is not its native habitat.

One boomer habit that still charms me: reading the paper or a few pages of a book at breakfast.

Yes, a real, crinkly newspaper that leaves ink on your fingers. Or a paperback with a bent corner.

Younger folks tease that it’s quaint. But the benefits are hard to ignore: fewer dings and dopamine spikes, deeper focus, and the pleasure of being absorbed in one thing.

When I started keeping a paperback on the kitchen table—just for mornings—I noticed something almost embarrassing: I felt smarter by 8 a.m.

Not because the content was lofty, but because my brain had practiced paying attention before it was asked to fracture itself all over the place.

It’s like warming up an instrument.

No book? Tear out an article you want to read and leave it where the phone usually goes. Reward yourself with your favorite mug while you read it. Ten minutes is enough.

5. Do a 10-minute home reset

I used to groan watching older relatives wipe the counters and run the dishwasher before heading out. “It’s morning! We’re supposed to be rushing!”

But their kitchens didn’t greet them with chaos at lunch. Meanwhile, my sink was auditioning for a detergent commercial.

A “home reset” is not a cleaning spree; it’s a friction reducer.

The boomer version often looks like: open the blinds, start the dishwasher, put yesterday’s shoes back by the door, toss junk mail, set out what you’ll need tonight. It’s the life equivalent of clearing your browser tabs.

I time mine with a song—three minutes to sweep the counter, two to gather dishes, five to lay out my market tote for volunteering later.

When the song ends, I’m done. Doing this daily makes later-in-the-day me feel unbelievably cared for by earlier-in-the-day me.

And when you feel cared for, you have more patience for everyone else.

6. Talk to a human before a screen

“Call me when you’re up,” my mom says, and I used to think, Who calls anymore?

Boomers do.

They chat with the neighbor watering the lawn. They greet the barista by name. They phone a sibling during their morning walk.

Eye-roll material? Maybe.

But it’s also emotional WD-40.

A quick human interaction acts like a social warm-up. It reminds your brain you’re part of a tribe.

That belonging feeling has a way of muting the background anxiety humming from your inbox.

I’m not advocating for a 45-minute debrief at 7 a.m. Keep it tiny: a two-minute check-in with a friend who’s also up early, a hello to the person at the dog park, a message that says “Thinking of you—no need to respond.”

On mornings when I volunteer at the farmers’ market, those first hellos with the growers set a tone I can’t manufacture alone at my desk.

People make mornings softer.

7. Write it down (a tiny plan and one line of gratitude)

“Why do they always have lists?” my younger self moaned, watching a boomer relative pull out a notepad like a magician.

Because lists are offloading.

They put your swirling thoughts somewhere that isn’t your skull.

This is where I embrace my inner nerd. I write three lines:

• Top 1: the one thing I’ll be happy I moved forward.

• Tiny next step: the smallest action to do it.

• One line of gratitude: a single sentence about something good, even boring-good.

This is backed by experts like Robert Emmons and Michael McCullough, whose research found that keeping brief gratitude lists can improve well-being.

Their 2003 study compared people listing blessings versus hassles and found the gratitude group reported better mood and even more progress toward goals.

And when I say tiny step, I mean tiny. If the top one is “work on proposal,” the tiny step is “open doc and write the first sentence.”

James Clear has a line I love: “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.”

That’s the whole game.

The list is the system.

The small step is the lever.

On days I skip this, I end up chasing everyone else’s priorities.

On days I write it down, I actually do my own.

Okay, but why do these habits feel so… boomer?

Because they were formed in a world that moved slower. Fewer notifications. More analog anchors.

That doesn’t make them obsolete; it makes them antidotes.

Also, this generation got good at consistency out of necessity. If you were raised to be on time, to show up, to call back, those morning routines served your reputation.

Reliability isn’t flashy. It does, however, build trust—with others and with yourself.

You might be thinking, “I don’t have an extra hour to live this sepia-toned morning fantasy.” Same. I don’t, either.

I’m not suggesting a 5 a.m. wake-up and a 12-step ritual. I’m suggesting we steal the best five minutes of each boomer habit and make them ours.

Try one:

• Get up and stand outside for three minutes.

• Pull the duvet tight.

• Sit while you eat, even if it’s yogurt.

• Read two pages on paper.

• Clear the sink while one song plays.

• Say good morning to a human.

• Write a three-line plan and a one-line thank-you.

Pick one and keep it for a week. See what shifts. It won’t fix your whole life.

But it will change the slope of your morning—the angle of your momentum—and that’s often all we need.

Final confession: I still roll my eyes sometimes. I’m human. But I also envy the peace that arrives when a morning takes care of you, not the other way around.

So I’m letting the eye-roll and the envy coexist. Then I’m making the bed.