A Day's Work
Time management, priorities, peace with imperfection, and progress amid a busy life.
When I introduce myself these days, I usually say something like, “I’m a former teacher, the mother of three boys, and I’m writing a novel.” The concept of a multi-hyphenate lifestyle is appealing and refreshing, yet for me, parenting, writing, and teaching are not just about professional skills and creative ventures. These are roles that occupy my mind and heart; they draw on layers of life experience, and I can’t choose just one.
“How do you find the time?” people ask.
Honestly? Sometimes I don’t.
There are no extra minutes in the day to be found, as we know, so my approach is a little scrappy; I stake my claim on windows of time as best I can. My not-so-secret weapons are simple: a good night’s sleep, exercise, time management, and deep breaths when any of the first three fall off, which they do. Often.
Right now, it looks something like this: I rise early and write for about an hour. A little after 7 am, I close my laptop to focus on getting the boys out the door (three schools, three different start times). Between 9-3 looks a little different each day, but it’s usually a mishmash of writing, writing-related tasks (submissions, research, etc.), exercise, and tending to the household. Starting around 3 pm, I begin the daily rounds between extracurricular activities, somehow produce something that resembles dinner, then spend the evening working on writing lessons and reading. I usually fall asleep in my book right about the time my teenagers start their homework.
Sometimes, especially this time of year, it feels as if those windows of time are shrinking, maybe even disappearing altogether.
Besides the bustle of the holiday season, December is when I read incoming applications for the local university. Though teaching is starting to feel more a part of my past, I will always champion teachers and anyone with a love of learning; this job speaks to the educator in me, and maybe the writer too. Each application tells a student’s story, and I find their initiative so inspiring. It’s more on my plate, but the work is meaningful.
While motherhood forever shifted my priorities, it hasn’t erased who I was before or who I will become. If anything, the older my children get, the more I realize I must nurture these other pieces of myself.
We can be so many things in our lives—maybe not all at once, but looking beyond our own or others’ expectations can reveal opportunities for growth and discovery. To be sure, the time, energy, and mental real estate involved in parenting are real and easily add up to a day’s work; I am always grateful for this acknowledgement. But while motherhood forever shifted my priorities, it hasn’t erased who I was before or who I will become. If anything, the older my children get, the more I realize I must nurture these other pieces of myself.
I don’t know how I find the time for anything some days, but I do know this: I have a story I want to tell, and it won’t leave me alone. Writing a novel is easily the most challenging writing project I’ve attempted, but it might be harder not to write it.
To be clear, it isn’t pretty. It’s not even always convincing. Some mornings I hit snooze too many times and I only write 100 words. There are afternoons when I write in my car while I wait for soccer practice to end. I’ve stayed in my pajamas for a little too long because “I need to finish this scene.” And there is always, always laundry. But I keep showing up—for word count and the momentum that keeps me in the story. I need both to write it.
I’ve had to work at being okay with this very imperfect picture. On the days I feel I’m plodding along at a tortoise’s pace, I remind myself: it is still forward motion. Tiny efforts add up over time. Somehow, I’ve written over 13,000 words already.
And yes, I drew a fancy chart on the chalkboard in my kitchen to track my progress. (See? Teacher.)
So when I make my coffee in the dark each morning, and crack open my laptop while my children dream, and claim those sacred predawn minutes for myself, I honor the novel I want to write—but also this:
The notion that there is space for the mother, the teacher, and the writer in me, and enough time for each.
As always, thanks for being here.❤️
I love hearing from you, so feel free to reply via email or comment below if any of this resonates.
Substack Shoutouts:
Sydney Michalski is a photographer and writer in Maine. She writes Moments, where she shares the most delightful moments of connection with the natural world, along with breathtaking photography. Her latest post Not So Wild Turkey features a very sweet moment between a turkey and a chipmunk, which made me smile. I bet you do too! 😊
Great post, Maria! I agree with so much of what you wrote but mostly with "And there is always, always laundry. But I keep showing up" 😁 From another mom/writer keep going, you're doing great!
I love the chart! 📊🧡