Ever have one of those weeks where you have #allthethings to do and not enough time to do it?

Dumb question. The answer is yes. I should have asked if you ever have a week that doesn’t look like that.

Here’s the thing. Being a working momma has a few challenges, and time management is one of them. I often find myself spending my lunch break scheduling appointments for my family, ordering the next size of diapers, paying bills, or fielding calls from teachers and doctors.

And to flip it and reverse it — I often spend post-bedtime hours remembering little things that need to be done at work the next day.  Or blog post ideas. Or adding “fold laundry” to a list in an effort to avoid actually folding the laundry.

So I whipped up these little printables to make my life a little easier. I needed something clean, with lots of blank spaces and not a lot of lines, because not every week is the same and fits neatly under certain headers…and if you’re crazy like me you don’t want to waste that space or leave a spot unfilled. Maybe this takes the place of a regular planner, maybe you use it in a pinch when you just need to knock out a lot of stuff in a week, or maybe it’s a combo. The world is your oyster, momma. Boss it up and use these however you see fit.

There are 4 pretty little pages here, let’s break it down.

 

Week At-A-Glance

Space! Glorious, glorious blank space! These are things my nerdy heart adores.  This is the perfect way to write down the weeks activities, or goals, or blog posts, or due dates, or…you get the drift. ALL the options here, folks.  It’s also fab to put on the fridge to keep you & your husband on track with the family’s schedule for the week.

Side note: Saturday and Sunday get their OWN SPACES, man. I loathe calendars that try to clump them into one box. In what world is Saturday less busy than Tuesday? Not mine. That’s for darn sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daily List

As a wise man once said: keep it simple, stupid.

This is ideal to print on the daily to keep you on track. I love having a “Main Thing” to focus on each day so if nothing else, I can get that crossed off and feel good about life.

Jot down what you’re cooking for dinner, what bills are due, and what you need to Amazon Prime yourself that day (Diapers. It’s probably diapers).

To do list lines, because duh. You know you want the satisfaction of crossing ish off of that bad boy. And those three happy squares on the right? Use one for each family member, or split into work/home/kids, or just use them to jot down any errant family thought that enters your mind at work so you can come back to it later.

 

 

 

 

Hustle

This is where I get Rihanna stuck in my head, “work, work, work, work, work…”

Have a direct sales gig? A blog you’re working to grow? A fab etsy shop? This is your new monthly work sheet.

Track your monthly goals, finances, successes and failures. This is your space to dream, plan, and check back in as the month goes on with your businesses successes (yays) and…not so successes (nays). And, obvi, remind yourself why you do what you do with “My Why”. Nothing motivates me like remembering why I do what I do (spoiler alert: this is why).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weekly Goals

Another winner for your fridge. Or wallet. Or desktop.

Know what makes you meet your goals? Writing them down. Spend 10 minutes on Sunday evening jotting down everything you want to get done during the week. Just, brain dump it here and check back throughout the week to see if you’re on track.

Don’t neglect that little inspiration line at the bottom, either. That matters. Jot down a verse, a quote, just something that gets you in a good headspace and gets your week started strong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Want these bad boys for yourself? Just click the image you want to print to download & print as needed. For free. Because I love you. Love these? Hate these? Let me know. And if you really love them, remember that sharing is caring!

Go crush all the things, momma. You got this.

 

 

 

Here’s an awesome, unexpected thing about G being in daycare.

All of her best friends, who move up from class to class at the same time as each other, all seem to have been born in a 3 month time span.

It’s the best. So many birthday parties in such a short amount of time. Quality time with the other parents. Getting to watch her interact with her friends. Noticing a few behavioral things to work on. I have loved every single minute of it.

Probably the unfortunate part of being in non-stop party mode for the better part of 2 months is that you might realize that you never did write about your own child’s birthday, or newfound threenager status. Which is a bit of a shame when you claim that you blog mostly to commemorate such memories.

*pats self on back*

The other unfortunate part is that your child has new & unrealistic expectations for Saturday afternoons.

“No, we can’t go to L’s house to see the kangaroo today. Or the turtle. Because they don’t live there all the time, that’s why.”

Yeah. That lady is holding an actual kangaroo in what can best be described as a ring sling for kangaroos.  But I guess they were the original baby-wearers, right? And can we pause for a minute for how funny it is that the two little girls behind her are all “whatever, mate, I think I’ll just touch this turtle instead of the ACTUAL KANGAROO on my back porch.”

Ya’ll know I like to operate with a pretty low bar.  I’ve managed to con my kid into thinking that grocery shopping is FUN.  These parties are ruining that illusion for me.

Ah well, she was sure to bust me on that eventually. Now back to the resident threenager in my house…

Let’s just pretend it’s the end of January and I’m writing a sweet little recap post in a timely manner like a good parenting blogger does. Humor me.

I loved every moment of G’s party…when we finally were able to have it. We had to reschedule due to the great ice-storm-that-wasn’t of 2017 because Oklahoma weather is cray.  So a few weeks after her actual birthday, and the original party date, we got together with some sweet little friends at a local painting place/indoor playground.

They played.

They painted (For maybe 3 minutes? Did I mention the indoor playground? That won the day.)

There was a cake made to the birthday girl’s exact specifications:

Guys. the best thing happened when we presented G with the pink and purple cake with pink sprinkles that she had so specifically requested. She just…withdrew.  Turned her head. Gave us all the side-eye. Like. Just not having it. Zero joy at having me hold a cake with a number three candle lit inches from her face. I blame the candle – and really – why wouldn’t we be scared when presented with baked goods on fire? Who thought that was a good idea to begin with?

And it’s those little moments that remind me of the glimpses I once saw.  G is so uniquely herself these days, I love it, and it makes me crazy all at once.  She is strong willed. And curious. And so smart.  She blows me away with the questions she asks and sends me into giggle fits with the games and stories she makes up regularly.

Two was a breeze with her, which is saying something since I spent the entire second year of her life pregnant & taking care of a newborn. Three is much, much more challenging. She pushes back, works hard to get her way, and asks so many questions.

And even as I type that, I realize that I want her to do all of those things as a woman in this world. Push back. Work Hard. Ask Questions.

…but not when used as a bedtime stall tactic.

 

 

When G was about 10 months old, I came down with a gnarly stomach flu that tanked my milk supply. So when Monday rolled around – I had no breastmilk to send. None. Nada. Zip. Nothing in the freezer, and my ta-tas were dry as a bone. I stifled my guilt and feelings of general failure as much as possible and told her teachers to just give her formula.

Fast forward to that afternoon and I got a phone call asking me to come feed her because she hadn’t had anything to drink all day. Girlfriend flatly refused that formula.

I cried so hard that day, ya’ll. I was so tired of feeling chained to my pump. I needed to know I could take a break from it and she would be okay.  And, turns out, she wouldn’t be okay if I took a break from it. I had to press on.

I pumped for a full year for her. And breastfed her until she was 16 months old.

I actually loved nursing. But pumping? Pumping was a whole ‘notha thing.

So when I was cradling The Boy at his 2 week well check and the sweet nurse practitioner asked this innocent question, all I could do was blink back at her for a few moments.

“So, what’s your plan for when you go back to work?”

Back to work. Oh my word. I’m going to have to pump again. How had I blocked all of that out?

Anxiety started to build up in my chest, and instead of putting on a brave face and giving a cheerful response, I was honest.

“I don’t know. I really, really hate pumping.”

Her response was immediate.

“Then don’t.”

Huh. What? THAT is an option?

She pointed out that he’d be starting daycare in the winter, which meant more germs, and that he’d likely benefit from as much breast milk as possible. But also? Also, formula was totally fine.

“I’m giving you permission to give him formula. Even if you produce more than enough milk for him. You. Can. Give. Him Formula. Give him a bottle a day starting around 6 weeks so he’ll get used to it.”

You know that scene in Braveheart where Mel Gibson screams FREEEDOM? That was basically me in all my postpartum glory in that moment.

I’ll give you a moment to let that mental image sink in.

Anyway, we left that appointment and off I went to my trusty Amazon to find some Prime-eligible formula.

And then I almost died of sticker shock.

Holy hell, you guys. How do formula parents DO this? I thought formula feeding moms were pretty much rock stars just with all the bottles they have to make & wash times infinity, but I had no idea that they were also spending a small fortune to fill all those bottles.

I browsed, and browsed, and browsed some more. I was sure I was missing some great Formula secret. Like, surely this is like Bed, Bath & Beyond or Loft where you shouldn’t buy anything that isn’t 40% off?

Nope. Even with the coupons I could find, formula is just dang expensive.

And then I looked at my pump and apologized.

Poor pump, poor sweet, innocent, free to me through insurance pump. I had said so many mean things. I had begrudgingly lugged it to work every day for a year. I had groaned every time I heard that familiar whirring. I had sworn under my breath while washing all of the parts every night.

I hadn’t realized what a gift it was. There was food! FREE FOOD for my baby. From my body. Yes, it was a lot of work getting it and most days I felt like a cow when I was hooked up to the damn thing (see, there I go again…). But it was there. And the price was right.

Ya’ll, I’ve never been so conflicted about something. On the one hand, I loathed the pump and my general inability to escape it once I went back to work after my babies were born.

On the other hand, it’s kinda nice to be able to afford to feed the other people in my house, and I wasn’t sure how to do that and also buy formula.

So here’s where I’ve landed:

I’m not putting any pressure on myself this time.

I’m still pumping, for now. I was pumping 3 times a day at work, but that got to be time consuming and, frankly, annoying so now I’ve dropped it to 2 times a day. The Boy has an occasional bottle of (daycare supplied) formula if I’m short on milk for the day. And, guess what?

So far, he’s doing just fine.

And if I decide that pumping is too stressful, or is giving me anxiety, or if I feel myself slipping back into the guilt that contributed to my PPD?

I will kick that pump to the curb and not look back.

So, pump. I LoveHate you. You’re a total Frenemy. But you’re safe.

For now.