Make Time

Make time.

Make time. How many times have I heard this? Make time.

Make time for me. For exercise, for writing.  Make time for the children, my husband, my friends. Make time to cook, to clean. To do laundry, to put away my clothes, the dishes, the piles of papers on my desk. Build a business, have a life, relax, ride a bike, walk a dog, take a nap.  Make time.

Make. The. Time.

You can change, you can do anything you want to-if you make the time. Right?

Right now I am staring at a pile of clean laundry that needs to be put away, next to a basket of exercise clothes that don’t ever get used, while writing the blog I have neglected in favor of the business I am trying to start in between the job I have in the house I keep with the kids I raise with the husband I married.  I wish I knew how to make time.

Is there a recipe? Can I google the instructions or watch a video on YouTube? Is there a formula or equation I missed in Algebra or Chemistry? I was never good at either one of those.  Making time.  Does it require baking? Because I don’t bake.  Cooking, I can do, baking-not so much.  Good Lord, I am creeping up on 50-can someone please share the secret with me? Pass me a note-I won’t tell.

Just make the time.

How much more would I make if I could? An hour? Three? Five? We all complain there are not enough hours in the day, but what is a good number? What would work? And if we can move Daylight Savings Time around, why can’t we add a few hours?  How about six-make it an nice round 30 hours a day.  No one really sleeps the full 8-10, so let’s go with 20 daytime hours and 10 night time hours.  That seems about right for me.

Make time.

I feel like I heard it a million times, and I know I will hear it a million more. From my husband, my kids, my family, my friends, my coworkers, my therapist.  Easy enough.  Just make the time.  

Did you know there is a book on it? I want to order it, but I don’t think I will actually have the time to read it. Unless I get the flu or something drastic. Yes, there is an actual book called Making Time.  ( )

I envy the people who do make time.  The women I see every day in tennis outfits or running shorts (you know, the ones that really have been to the gym).  The writers that lock themselves away and write for hours uninterrupted in peaceful bliss (unlike myself who typically dictates to Siri my next essay idea, or my next essay entirely, while in the car running errands).  The photographers that get up to see the sun rise, and manage to process and post their photos all in one day, or better yet, the ones that keep up with the 365 Day or the 52 Week Challenge. I am curious what they do ‘in real life’.  Do they have a job/kids/spouse/friends/commitments that beckon them and they ignore them (because they are making time)? How do they do it all? Last week I ran out the door to drive one child to school, grabbed the camera and found myself on the side of the road in my sweats, hair a rat’s nest, standing in an ant pile with no makeup on taking pictures of the gorgeous fog rising off the fields.  I have only looked at and edited four images since then.  I have not made the time, you could say. Or you could say, I have had houseguests, work, kids, and other commitments that have not allowed me the time to circle back.

Make time.

I wish I could. I am sure you do too. I do my best, I promise.  To make time for everyone that I love, and for those that love me. I know over the years the ebb and flow of life have made one person or the other in my life have felt otherwise, but I truly do.

And now I am going to make time for bed, for sleep.  All of the things undone on my list of things to do today, will be added to the list for tomorrow.

About startingwritenow

I am a mom, a wife, a sister, daughter and friend. I love a good laugh, a house full of people, a great craft beer (or two), a bold red wine and a book or movie of any kind.-good, bad or otherwise! I believe in learning something everyday, in growing and changing every chance you get. I don't fit in every circle, I don't color inside the lines, but I have learned to love my messy life!
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