Before we were married, my husband and I agreed that I would stay home to raise any children we had. I suppose this was partly a rational decision — Jordan Peterson's pro-family exhortations and Erica Komisar's "Being There" were influential — but mostly it just felt right. He wanted to give me a house, and I wanted to make him a home.

When the time came to abandon my fledgling career, I felt something between the relief promised by the traditional housewife lobby and the grief the girlboss brigade had led me to expect. While work wasn't "fulfilling" in any meaningful sense, neither was it "soul-sucking." It gave me a pleasant sense of purpose and an outlet for my talents, not to mention money and the social status gainful employment confers. Moments of real interest and thrill made up for the mild drudgery.

Motherhood wasn’t accurately described by ideologues, either. Unlike my job, it was deeply fulfilling in a way words couldn't quite express, but at the cost of profound isolation and crippling lassitude. I never resented how much my children needed me, but I couldn't ignore the sense that my options had irrevocably narrowed.

I suspect most women live in this ambivalence, torn between the rational, remunerative, public world and the maternal, eternally minded, private world.

We're often told this inner conflict is the inevitable result of trying to "have it all"; simply commit to one or the other and peace will follow. But what if the work-home dichotomy itself is false — a relic of a centuries-old wedge between man and woman, and the notions of secular and sacred, that eventually became the sex war?

That's certainly the thesis behind how I structure my days. The goal is to honor my duties to family while also participating in public life and commerce in my own small way.

My favorite tool for achieving this is time blocking, or what I like to call “rigid flexibility.”

I separate my day into one- to three-hour blocks and assign those time blocks with time-sensitive, measurable, focused, appropriate goals.

I am as rigid about timing as I can be, but because the blocks are a generous amount of time to reasonably accomplish what I need to, I don’t feel that rigidity in the moment.

When the time block is over, I simply move to the next item. Whether or not I’ve done it perfectly, I’ve done something. The sense of momentum and accomplishment helps me get through the day and sleep at night.

When I started doing this, I mapped it all out on paper, in my calendar. Now that it’s been about a year, it’s a habit. The rough edges are smoother than I could have ever imagined.

So, here’s a day in my life, from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. PS: It takes me 15 minutes to get anywhere I need to go.

7-9 a.m.

Wake up. Usually one of the kids has gotten us up at some point through the night. Whoever had kid duty the previous night gets a nap while the other spouse makes breakfast. Fried eggs and a French press. My favorite routine.

Next, everyone needs dressing. Everyone’s weekday wardrobe is extremely simple: athletic clothes. I’m not fussy, because the next thing we do is leave the house, usually for some kind of sporty activity. For me: sunscreen, perfume, light makeup if I slept poorly.

Before we are out the door, I start a load of laundry.

9:15 a.m. to noon

Every weekday, these hours are devoted to some form of social recreation. That could mean going to the YMCA for a workout while the kids play at the Y’s kid center, or going to a playgroup, where a regular set of moms can share coffee and let our kids run free with their friends.

It could also mean a one-on-one playdate with a friend in need of some extra emotional support or a field trip to the library, the farm, or the museum.

For these, I prioritize moderately stimulating, come-as-you-are venues that don't require more than the kind of low-effort supervision that allows you to check emails or take phone calls if need be. The kind of place where one mom can easily handle all the kids while the other takes a bathroom break or replenishes the snack supply.

Most important is to seek the kind of enjoyable, relaxing environment in which parents and children can develop real friendships in tandem.

This time block is generous enough to fill everyone’s cup for the day but limited so as not to drain us of energy for what comes next.

12:15-1 p.m.

From noonish to 1 p.m., the kids have lunch. This may happen in the wagon while I’m making a grocery run, which requires some forethought and a packed lunch. Otherwise, we’ve just arrived home, and they’re eating last night’s leftovers.

While they’re eating lunch, I switch the load of laundry. Go back, pick up the bedroom, and quickly tidy the bathrooms. It’s a very fast pass because of the mess the kids are bound to make unsupervised while eating, but it’s enough to decrease the chaos just enough so that the end of the day doesn’t feel overwhelming.

1-3 p.m.

At 1 p.m., the littlest kids take naps, and my three-year-old has about two hours of quiet time. She can play quietly or listen to an audio book or lie down and watch a movie while her siblings nap.

This was a routine that took some work, as my eldest is highly energetic and social. So, I trained her. Sometimes training them to do something they don’t want to do is uncomfortable and annoying in the beginning. But it’s better for everyone that she rests. Eventually, she came to expect and look forward to quiet time.

This is tea time and a work block for me. I’m just checking work items off my to-do list here. Usually writing.

3-5 p.m.

Littles wake up. Light snack and time for outside play. At this point, the two eldest kids go in the backyard and make something of their boredom. I often give them a little treat to smooth over the transition, but especially since the weather has improved, they hardly need encouragement.

So, while they are playing outside, I’m once again free to wrap up my work. By 4 p.m., I need to prepare dinner and tidy for bedtime.

From 4-5 p.m., I’m drinking kombucha, cooking, and answering emails or scrolling X.

5-7 p.m.

Dinner, bath, and bedtime for the kids. Husband and I divide and conquer.

7-10 p.m.

After 7 p.m., I have another work block. I’m writing, usually. Podcasting, sometimes. But not alone. Usually curled up with husband. It’s been a long day.

We’re both tired. Sometimes I’ll get carried away and write until 10 p.m., which isn’t ideal, since that’s my preferred bedtime. Frequently, if I’m up all night with a fussy kid, I’m writing in the middle of the night, too.

None of that is ideal, again, but I’m not clocking in and clocking out like a typical working person. It’s great to get paid, but it’s even greater to build a community of like-minded women. Sometimes that means I can’t let inspiration escape me when it comes. Another point for rigid flexibility.

Postscript

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the key to making time blocking work, at least for me: the willingness to accept supernatural help.

As trite as this may sound, an attitude of gratitude and surrender is essential to surviving what can sometimes feel like an unending onslaught of responsibility as a mother. We are painfully human, and we rely on grace to do anything, let alone anything excellent. So, we should ask for grace. Frequently.

Prayer, I think, is different for caretakers of littles. We may never find ourselves in positions to pray without interruption, but that doesn’t mean we can’t pray constantly. Our children’s cries are our church bells, a friend once told me. It’s a unique blessing to be with them each day, as their small voices can remind us of our Creator. Frequently!

The domestic church calls each member to different roles. But like the mystical body of Christ, with all our myriad talents, personalities, abilities, and disabilities, we are united in spirit. If you want to work while being a mom, you must retain a positive attitude within this whole-person, whole-home, whole-church framework. It’s a radically countercultural, anti-atomistic worldview.

You build this worldview day by day and choice by choice. Having to interrupt an urgent professional task to tend to an even more urgent blown-out diaper can trigger resentment. Or, it can prompt reflection. While everyone’s needs and desires may seem to compete in acute moments of distress, they are never mutually exclusive in the sense that they all point toward the same end: happiness and holiness.

To raise children requires its own kind of excellence. More wide-ranging and flexible than that demanded by the workplace, perhaps, but no less disciplined. Motherhood is a noble and challenging vocation. Preparing for it as such is the best shot a mom has at maintaining her sanity in a family-unfriendly world.