If you imagine a neat, colour-coded routine with set working hours, this probably isn’t the post you’re expecting. A typical day for me is much looser than that, and it has to be.
Most mornings start around 9am. I’m very lucky in that Lucrezia sleeps well, so we get up together and have breakfast while watching Robin Hood — the original Disney animated version. That usually means “Oo-De-Lally” is stuck in my head for the rest of the day. While she eats, I do a bit of doom scrolling, check Threads, and briefly confirm that the world still exists by looking at the news.
After that, the chaos begins.
Working in small, imperfect chunks
On days when we’re staying at home, we’ll play together first. I’ll often put films on in the background while she carries on playing, and I’ll try to work alongside that. If I block out 90 minutes, I might actually get 50 to 60 minutes of work done — if I’m lucky. I often am not.
This is where ChatGPT comes in. I use it as a kind of external brain. It helps remind me where I stopped working the day before, what I was in the middle of, and what actually needs doing. I’ll get a plan for the day down and put it into my diary. That’s less about productivity and more about energy — being able to look back over a week and see what I was doing, and how much I was balancing.
The day then becomes a repeat of playing, working for a bit, stopping, playing again, and trying to work some more. Some days, I have to give up entirely because Lucrezia is unsettled. Other days, it’s my body that won’t cooperate.
Listening to my body
There are days when my energy just isn’t there. Today, for instance, my hips are causing a lot of pain, and sitting in a chair for more than ten minutes at a time is hard. On days like that, I have to adjust. Shorter bursts. More rest. Sometimes working from bed.
This is my reality now, and fighting it only makes things worse.
I try to call it quits around 3pm so that the rest of the day is just mummy and Lucrezia time. She’s brilliant at going to sleep, and most nights she’s out by around 6pm. That gives me some time to myself in the evening.
Rest is part of the work
That evening time isn’t all work. I don’t want it to be. I read, do a jigsaw, or do things that help me recharge. On a typical day, if I’m being completely honest, I might only do around three hours of actual work.
That can sound odd when you look at how much of the day is “blocked off”, but I don’t work solidly. I can’t. Not because of my small human, but because my brain and body won’t allow it anymore. I work in small, manageable chunks — sometimes 20 minutes on, then 30 minutes resting. After a longer block, I need a proper break.
Trying to force a 9–5 at home with Lucrezia here isn’t something I can or want to do. That may change one day, but we aren’t there yet, and that’s okay.
Some days, work doesn’t happen at all
There are days where I do no work whatsoever. We’ll go out to a play centre and spend hours discovering imaginary worlds — running a chip shop, driving a double-decker bus, or getting lost in role play.
Those days matter. I treasure them, and I try to let work leave my mind completely. I used to do the same before and after market days too, because I knew a full work day would mean I’d miss out on time with her.
For me, it’s about working when I can, and how I can. If that means working from my bed while she sleeps next to me, that’s fine. There’s no perfect picture of what a working parent looks like.
The less we judge ourselves — and each other — for how we make it work, the better it is for everyone.