The planning exercise I keep coming back to
see also: finding margins
Like most caregivers, my days include a variety of activities and tasks:
facilitating one child’s education, hopefully in a manner that appeals to his neurodivergent brain and does not send him into fight or flight
removing the toddler from underneath the kitchen sink, preferably before he sticks a dishwasher pod in his mouth
driving offspring to various appointments and therapies, or ferrying back and forth from preschool
preparing meals, which were chosen with my children’s taste in mind, but which they will not consume
removing the toddler from underneath his brother’s bed, because he is there uninvited
ensuring items such as toilet paper, bandaids and Crayola watercolors are well stocked
refereeing sibling squabbles (recently the argued over a plastic baby doll— which, neither child involved plays with dolls for more than .5 seconds, and we actually have two identical dolls)
I could go on. But the point is my time is not really my own, and yet time to myself is essential for continuing to carry on with all of the above. Sometimes (often), I must physically carve out space within the week to be myself. But when, when so much of my week is already spoken for?
Enter time blocking.
This exercise is one I’ve returned to again and again, when life feels overwhelming or at the beginning of a new season when our schedules and routines are shifting.
Chances are high there’s an unused and unneeded weekly spread in one of my planners. That and a pack of highlighters is all I need. It can be color coded or not (I usually opt for like items together— therapy appointments get the same color, even if they are appointments for different kids and with different providers).
First, I block out the big things, usually time-bound activities on someone else’s schedule. Currently my three children have 6 standing appointments each week. One child has three out-of-the-house activities related to homeschool. But I also block out the time it typically takes the drive to preschool and back, as well as bedtime (heavy parent-involvement from 7 to 8 pm most nights).
Next is the other most important things: I need to find a consistent time to work out. Time on weekends to meal plan/ prep, and to think through my goals and action items for the month or week ahead. One of my kids is homeschooled, and I need to set aside time to work with him. During the week I need some quiet time in the afternoon to reset my always- fraying nervous system.
The end looks something like this. The goal is not to have every hour color coded, because there has to be space for the ambiguous time where I am taking a shower, transitioning from one task to the next, or tending to domestic life (i.e., cooking dinner and stopping the toddler from opening and eating all of his gummy vitamins).
The result can become a guide for the flow of my weeks; one-off calendar events like a doctor’s appointment will have to fit into white space, or maybe bump a regularly scheduled activity off the calendar.
I can also use this spread as a way of finding containers for the things I want to do. Looking at my week, I have a good amount of time sitting in waiting rooms while a kid is in session with a provider. I can and do haul around my knitting bag and airpods since knitting and listening to an audiobook or podcast is an excellent waiting room activity. Bonus! Knitting is a soothing balm for my sensitive little nervous system. When I want to hide away in the afternoons, it’s a good time to work on writing projects (like this newsletter or my memoir) or journal. I often refer to this as office hours since it’s a reminder to myself that it should be butt-in-chair time.
While I still have way more things that I need or want to do than the time I need to do them, time blocking always shows me that I do have some time, and it’s good motivation for using the time as wisely as possible.
Have you ever tried this exercise? Other methods for finding margins in which to make art and tend to yourself?