Dear Reader,
I write this from a coffee shop while I wait for my kids to finish an art class down the road. The Easter long weekend raced happily by and as ever, we woke this morning, wondering where the time went. Well, let’s not wonder. This is where the time goes:
There are 52 weeks in the year. And 52 weekends.
If we subtract the Christmas, New Year and Easter weekends you are left with 49 weekends.
Let us imagine we all belong to a nuclear family of 4 (yes, problematic assumption). Each of us might use a Saturday or Sunday to celebrate our birthdays.
We are now down to 45 weekends.
Let us assume that we have a mother and father, 1 sibling, and our children have 2 cousins, all conservative estimates. They also celebrate their birthdays. Minus another 5 weekends.
40 weekends left!
As a family of 4, perhaps we each have 4 friends, who all have birthdays.
That is 16 weekends, give or take.
You are down to 24 weekends.
Let us also assume that we see our 4 friends more than just on their birthdays. Let’s give each family member a weekend with their special friend. Minus another 16.
8 weekends left!
There are 3 major school holidays in my year, not counting long weekends and such. But I can safely assume that I will be away for a minimum of 3 weeks/weekends a year.
5 weekends left!
We have hobbies, do we not? Cello, tennis, running, you name it. These also take up about 3 weekends a year by my count.
Shame, we are now down to 2 weekends where we can do absolutely nothing.
I think all my assumptions are very conservative, given large families, whole classes being invited to each other’s birthdays (please, please, stop doing this!), school events, dinners out, interesting things that come up, like music, theatre, sport, book launches!
So there we go. Those are your weekends. No wonder you wake up every Monday wondering what happened.
As for overly ambitious work plans, here are mine. I have no doubt yours are more pressing and real-world related than mine, you know, attached to earning an actual income. So I understand if you are reading about my Victorian life with great disdain. Nevertheless, the point, I think, remains valid.
I have a list of things I would like to achieve every day. I am lucky if I achieve two of these. What was that someone once said, about happiness and realistic expectations?
Read fiction – 1 hour
Practise cello or piano – 1 hour
Current affairs/long-form journalism/essays (which I usually have to read over a number of days) – 1 hour
Audiobook in car – the classics.
Writing project – 2 hours or 500 – 1000 words, whichever comes first.
Non-fiction reading – 1 hour
Religious or philosophical literature – 30 minutes
Daily pages (journal) – 30 minutes
Babel – 1 hour twice a week.
Exercise – 1 hour.
Total: 9 hours.
My kids are only at school for 4 hours a day. So I will only ever be able to achieve half of my goals if I am the World’s Most Disciplined Person. Which I am not. I spend hours staring at clothes online, I sit aimlessly in my garden occasionally pulling up a weed, I spend too long on the loo catching up on my whatsapp messages, I write and re-write lists about all the things I want to do, I have coffee with friends, I lounge on the couch with my kids, I never work in the evenings (but I do read while Warwick watches tennis).
Between the hours of 6am and 8am and 5pm and 7pm, I completely indisposed from any my own desires owing to the needs of my family.
Between the hours of 1 and 3pm I fetch my kids from school, feed them lunch and take them to any number of extramural activities, or do Improving Activities with them at home (for which we all lose steam rather rapidly).
Usually between 3 and 5pm I am able to read while they play, but what I should really be doing is cleaning the kitchen (my sink is always full of dishes), doing laundry (there are always piles of clothes to be washed/folded/packed away lying around), cooking meals (this I do do, and enjoy) and grocery shopping (which I have turned into a weekly ritual with a friend which makes it feel connected to my general wellbeing, not a mere chore).
When I still worked for money, a colleague of mine gave me a cut-out of a newspaper cartoon which read, ‘that’s right sweetheart, dreams and goals are Satan’s way of distracting you from making dinner’. It has been on my noticeboard for years. Sadly, it seems to be true.
My life, in comparison to most of the people I know, is slow-moving and low-pressure. But I am still short about 4 hours a day. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Do less. Do it well. I hope this week doesn’t fly by for you, and you are able to luxuriate in something you love, for at least one full afternoon.
I smile as I read this, thinking this was exactly me not so long ago! Writing lists of things I planned to do, calculating hours spent doing whatnots and wondering how to fit them all in. Tag me when you figure it out!