I swear I’ve been trying to get myself on a “schedule” since I was an apartment-dwelling single girl with one cat.
(I am now a house-dwelling married stepmom-of-two, and the cat count is up to five.)
A lot has changed in the past few years.
My mismanagement of time, has not.
I don’t schedule my workouts. I don’t time-block my creativity calendar or the kids’ weekend routines. And I don’t meal prep. I try, and the attempt lasts a week or two, but then it crashes and burns.
A few weekends ago, I’d determined (for the nineteenth time) to cook meals for the week on Sunday nights. (That plan disintegrated after two weeks. Sigh. But regardless.)
I pulled open the pantry door, and stood there, staring blankly at the rack of herbs and spices.
My stepson walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asked me.
“I’m looking for thyme,” I told him. Then I realized the pun potential, and knew he would appreciate it.
And seriously, bad puns aside, it feels like there isn’t. Or at least, I keep failing whenever I try to manage it.
I fly by the seat of my pants every. freaking. day.
Things somehow manage to get done. I exercise almost daily, my family and I eat SOMETHING at each meal, and my Instagram is proof that I do make time to draw … somewhere.
But there’s nothing predictable about it. I put off doing tasks until I’m down to the wire. (I work at a newspaper; deadlines are the only thing that really motivate me.)
But it’s generally chaotic, and I waste TONS of time going between tasks that I KNOW I could tackle better if I batched them each day, or did them all at the beginning of the week, or even WOKE UP at the same darn time every morning (crazy concepts, I know).
- EXAMPLE 1: I’ve been meaning to write my stepmomming column every two or three weeks. But when I stopped writing it for the newspaper, I stopped writing it altogether. My outside-imposed deadline was gone, and so too was my motivation.
- EXAMPLE 2: I’ve been meaning to set up a regular routine each weekend the kids are at our house. Whether that’s folding the laundry together, or handwriting notes to mail to family members — I start out with great intentions. And every single time, those intentions … peter … out.
- EXAMPLE 3: I’ve been meaning to work on more art stuff — and ONLY because I have several shows coming up (read: deadlines), I’ve actually been making time to create. However, it’s incredibly haphazard, and quite frankly, that’s kind of exhausting in itself.
Why is it so hard to make routines, and STICK WITH THEM?
Do you guys have any routines that work for you? How do you keep them from going up in smoke?