Welcome to Episode 108 of the Time for Living Podcast!
TRANSCRIPT
show notes
Have you ever actually seen another mom's week laid out, for real? Not the highlight version. The real shape of it, with the kids, the cleaning, the meal prep, and the things that didn't make it in.
In this episode, Lucy shows you her own time-blocked week, in the order it goes in. It's for busy, working moms who've heard plenty about time blocking but have never seen a real week that holds, with life in it and things left out on purpose.
In this episode, you'll discover:
The order Lucy blocks her week in, starting with sleep, her son, and a weekly date night and time with friends, before any work goes in.
Why her dream gets one fixed block after bedtime, treated like school pick-up, not something that gets bumped.
Her parked list, and the one question that decides what goes on it: does this need to happen this week?
Why parking a job is different from dropping it, and how writing it down stops it nagging at you.
How to copy the order of her week, not the times, so it fits your life.
Resources:
Ready to take action? Go to timeforliving.co/anchormap. The free Anchor Map helps you find the right spot in your real week for one fixed block for your dream.
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/timeforlivingco/
• Email: hello@timeforliving.co
Final Thought:
A week doesn't hold because you fit everything in. It holds because you decided what isn't in it.
TRANSCRIPT - My Real Time-Blocking Week (And What I Left Out)
INTRODUCTION
So, at the end of the last episode, I asked you to find the line that's been sitting on your to-do list the longest, leave it where it is, and write the real steps underneath it. Then circle the first one. And I ended by asking a question I've been looking forward to answering ever since. Once your list is telling the truth, where do all those steps actually go?
If you didn't catch that one, here's all you need. Most of the lines on our lists are bigger than they look. Once you write the steps out, you can finally see the real work. And then you need somewhere to put it.
Now, I could spend today telling you how to time block. But I've talked about time blocking on this show more than once, and you've probably read a dozen articles about it too. So I'm going to do something I've never actually done here. I'm going to show you my week. My real one. What goes in, what order it goes in, and what I've deliberately left out.
Can I ask you something first? Have you ever actually seen another mom's week laid out, for real? Not the highlight version on someone's feed. The real shape of it. Most of us never have, so we end up planning against some imaginary week that belongs to nobody. So today, you get mine. And as you listen, I'd love you to keep your own week in the back of your mind. Not to compare. Just to notice what you'd put in first, if you were starting again from a completely blank page.
What Building My App Showed Me This Week
Before I show you, a quick update from the build. If you're new here, I'm building an app. For me first, because it's not the app, it's the system, and I wanted an app that works for my system and the way my brain works. Maybe one day it'll be for you too. That's my dream.
This week I took my whole brain dump, every single thing that's been rattling around in my head, and I added it all into the app. And when it sorted everything, it showed me a lot.
The first thing it showed me was this. Most of the things I'm aiming to do aren't tasks. They're projects. "Get fit" was sitting there looking like one tidy line. It isn't. It's a project, and it needs to be treated like one, with steps, the same way the fridge did in the last episode.
The second thing was that a lot of what was in there didn't belong in this week at all. Parking is something we're building right now, and prioritising is another. And seeing it all in one place made something really clear to me. My week only works because a lot of things aren't in it.
Which is the whole of today, really.
My Week, in the Order It Goes In
So here's my week. And I want you to listen for the order as much as the blocks themselves, because the order is the bit that matters.
The very first thing that goes in is sleep. Eight hours. I don't trade it. Not for work, not for the house, and not even for my dream, which you'll hear about in a minute. Sleep goes in first because everything else in the week runs on it, and a week built on too little sleep doesn't hold anything.
The second thing that goes in is my son. Every weekend is his. And every weekday, from school pick-up until bedtime, is his too. Most of those afternoons and evenings, I'm taking him somewhere. Hockey. Swimming. Indoor climbing, which we do together and which I love. And in the winter, skiing and snowboarding. That's a big chunk of the week, and it goes in before any work does. Not because I'm squeezing work around him reluctantly, but because that time is the life I'm building all of this for.
Then, before any work, a small one that matters more than it looks: time with the grown-ups I love. Date night and time with friends get blocked in once a week. It’s not a big block. But if I don’t put it in on purpose, it’s the first thing a full week quietly swallows, and a week with no grown-up time in it ends up being all logistics.
Then come my weekday mornings, which are school hours. That's where my work lives. Emails, the work itself, and all the life admin that comes with running a home: the forms, the bookings, the bills, the "can you just" messages. Cleaning lives in the mornings too.
And inside that work time, I work in 15-minute blocks. This is where last week's steps finally land. Remember the fridge, with all its steps written underneath? "Measure the old fridge" is a 15-minute block. "Check delivery" is a 15-minute block. So when I sit down in a morning, I'm not staring at a three-word line wondering where to begin. I'm picking up a step that already knows how big it is. The list told the truth last week. This week, the morning gives it somewhere to go.
Exercise goes into the mornings as well, but here's something I want to be really honest about. It's three weekday mornings, not five. I'd love five. But cleaning and meal prep have to get done too, and there are only so many mornings in a week. So I made a decision: three. And three that actually happen is worth a lot more to me than five that I feel guilty about missing.
Then there's the afternoon, before school pick-up. That's meal prep. So when pick-up comes and we're heading straight out to hockey or swimming, dinner is already handled. I'm not standing in the kitchen at half past five trying to think of something while also looking for a water bottle.
And then there's my dream block. Once my son's in bed, I spend one hour building the app. One hour. Not two, not "until it's done." It has an end, and the end is there so my sleep stays where it is. That hour is fixed. It doesn't move just because the week got full. It's the one block in my week that's only for the thing I'm building for myself.
And so you can picture it, that's the hour where this week's brain dump went into the app. Every last thing out of my head and into one place, sorted, so I could see what was a project, what was this week's, and what could wait. That happened in one evening hour, after bedtime, while the house was quiet. Not in some free day I was waiting for.
That's my week. Sleep. My son. Work and admin and cleaning in the mornings, with exercise three of them. Meal prep in the afternoon. One hour on my dream after bedtime. And then sleep again.
What I Left Out on Purpose
And now for the part I think is even more useful. What's not in my week.
Right now, I've got a list I call my parked list. On it at the moment: sorting out my son's clothes that are too small for him. Getting the house ready for winter. Bringing the outdoor cushions inside. And clearing the leaves out of the gutters.
None of those are in this week. On purpose.
Every one of them matters. Every one of them will get done. But they're not this week's. And here's the thing I didn't understand for a long time. Writing them on a parked list is completely different from just not doing them. When they're floating around in my head, they nag. Every time I walk past the outdoor cushions, there's a little voice. Every time I open his drawers and something doesn't fit, there it is again. When they're parked, written down, decided, they go quiet. I know where they are. I know they're not forgotten. I've just told them, "not this week."
And notice what's on that list. Getting the house ready for winter isn't a task. It's a project. Sorting the clothes isn't a quick job either; it's going through every drawer, deciding what goes, finding a bag, working out where it's going. Exactly like the fridge. So when one of those comes off the parked list, it comes off with its steps written underneath.
And if you're wondering how I decide what gets parked, it's one question. Does this need to happen this week? Not "does it matter," because almost everything matters. Not "would it be nice to get it done," because it would all be nice to get done. Just: does it need to happen this week? If the answer is no, it goes on the parked list. If it's yes, it gets a home in the week. That one question has taken so much noise out of my head. And if you're anything like me, your parked list will probably end up longer than the list of things that actually happen this week. That's fine. That's the point.
What My Week Is Actually Doing
So let me name what's going on in that week, because it isn't luck, and it isn't that I'm especially organised.
The order is the method. Sleep and my son go in first, because they're the shape of the life I actually want to live. My work fits around them, inside school hours. Home fits around that. And my dream gets one fixed block that nothing else is allowed to land on.
Most of us do it the other way round. We start with the work, then try to fit the house around the work, then try to fit the people we love around both, and then wonder why there's never any room left for us. When you put the life in first, the week has a shape before a single task goes anywhere.
And I'm not saying any of this from some perfectly organised high horse. I'm telling you the order that's working for me right now, in the week I actually have, with a child who needs driving to the rink and a house that doesn't clean itself.
The order also makes the middle of the week so much easier. When something new lands on a Wednesday, a request, an idea, a job someone else needs from me, I don't have to agonise over it. I just ask where it fits. If there's a home for it in this week's shape, it goes there. If there isn't, it goes on the parked list. The week already did the deciding, so I don't have to do it again from scratch every time something new turns up.
And the dream block being fixed matters more than its size. Think about school pick-up. Pick-up doesn't get bumped because the inbox is busy. It doesn't move because a meeting ran long. It's just there, and everything else arranges itself around it. That's how I treat my hour after bedtime. It's fixed, like pick-up.
And then there's the parking. I want to be really clear about this one, because it's different from simply dropping things. Parking isn't deciding something doesn't matter. It's deciding it doesn't matter this week. The gutters are still getting cleared. Just not in the week where I've already filled my mornings.
Here's the line I'd love you to keep from today. A week doesn't hold because you fit everything in. It holds because you decided what isn't in it.
Packing the Hockey Bag
If you've ever packed a hockey bag, or any sports bag for a child, you already know how this works.
Skates and helmet go in first. Always. If they don't go in first, nothing else matters, because there's no game without them. Then everything else fits around them: the gloves, the pads, the water bottle, the snack you'll be very glad of later. And if something won't fit, that tells you something. It's not needed for this game. It stays home, and that's fine. You're not going to leave the skates behind to make room for a spare hoodie.
That's all a week is. The skates and the helmet go in first. For me, that's sleep and my son and my family. Then everything else fits around them. And whatever doesn't fit isn't failing. It's just not needed for this week's game.
Your Week Won't Look Like Mine
Now, I don't want you to copy my week. Please don't. Your hours won't be my hours. Maybe you work outside the home, or shifts, or you've got three kids with three different activities, or a baby who decides when your day starts. Your blocks will sit in completely different places.
Copy the order, not the times.
Sleep first. The people you love next. Then work. Then home. Then one fixed block for your dream. And then a parked list for everything that isn't this week's.
And your dream block doesn't need to be an hour. Mine is right now, because of where I am with the app and because my evenings allow it. Yours might be fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes on a Tuesday and a Thursday that are fixed, that don't move, will do more for your dream than an hour you keep hoping will show up. The size matters a lot less than it being fixed.
And I want to say this directly, because I think a lot of us need to hear it. If your week has felt like it holds everything and everyone except you, that isn't a you problem. It's an order problem. You've been putting yourself in last, after everything else, and there's simply never anything left by the time it's your turn. That's not a failure of discipline. It's just the order. And the order can change.
Let me give you a quick example of what that might look like for someone whose life is nothing like mine. Say you work in an office, nine to five, with two kids. Sleep goes in first. Then your kids: the mornings before school and the evenings after work, and most of Sunday. Then work, which is fixed for you anyway. Then home: maybe a cleaning block on Saturday morning and a quick meal plan on Sunday evening. Then your dream block. Maybe it's fifteen minutes on your lunch break, Tuesday and Thursday, writing the first pages of that book you keep talking about. And your parked list might say: sort the garage, print the photos from summer, look into the new car insurance. Different week. Same order.
You're also allowed a parked list. You're allowed to look at the gutters and say "not this week" without it meaning you've let anything slide. You've made a decision. That's what grown-up weeks are made of.
Your One Step This Week
So here's the one thing I'd love you to do this week.
Take one page. Block next week, in order. Sleep first. Then time with your kids, or the people you love most. Then work. Then home. Then one fixed block for your dream, any size. And then, underneath it all, write a parked list with two or three things that aren't this week's.
When the page has your week in that order and your parked list underneath, you're done. You don't need to schedule every step from last week yet. You don't need it to be pretty. Just the shape.
If you'd like help finding the right spot for that dream block in your real week, this is exactly what the Anchor Map walks you through. It's free, you name the dream you want more room for, it shows you where your pockets of time really land, and it has you plant one 15-minute anchor in your actual day. About five minutes, at timeforliving.co/anchormap.
Block your life in first, give your dream one fixed block, and park the rest on purpose.
And when you do, something shifts that's hard to explain until you feel it. The afternoons with your kids stop having one eye on a list, because the list already knows where everything goes. Your dream stops being something you'll get to when things calm down, and becomes an hour, or fifteen minutes, that's already yours. And all those parked jobs stop following you around the house, because you've decided they're not this week's. It's the same week. It just finally has room in it for you.
Next week, we're taking this beyond your own page. Because so much of what fills a family's week doesn't live on any calendar at all. It lives in your head: every appointment, every pick-up, every "who's doing what." We're talking about the one calendar the whole house runs on, so that load can finally live somewhere other than you.