Tuesday, January 15, 2013

A Reluctant Reformed List Maker

When I was in high school and college, I had my planner with me all of the time.  When I was a teacher, I had my book of lesson plans and another planner to keep everything straight.
For some reason, when I became a stay at home mom, I fell off the list/planner wagon.
I thought about it once in awhile, but for one reason, writing a list would take time and I didn't have time to blow my nose, much less put pen to paper. 
Well, I decided to give it another try and I have to say I am a believer in lists once again.
It started last week when my copy editing job picked up a bit and I had to--gasp!--budget my time!  (I'm not complaining, just saying.) 
Fridays are now my unpredictable work days.  It is still pretty flexible, but I need to plan on 1/2 to 4+ hours of editing time on those days. 
{Welcome to the world of journalism, Laura.  You can't plan ahead and you can't work ahead.  You do the work when the stories come in . . . and they won't always come in when you expect or want them to!  This unpredictability is a main reason why I hadn't ventured into the world of journalism prior to this.  But, it's good for me.  Knocks me out of my comfort zone just a bit.  I'll adjust.  I've already learned a lot and am thankful to the editor for her patience with me these first weeks!}
Oh, where was I?  Yes, lists.
I now start my day with a list.  It's not anything pretty--just a list of things I want to get done.  It can be anything from ordering something for church online to dusting the living room. 
When you are a wife, mom, or woman at all, it seems we can do a lot of stuff in a day and then look back and think, "What did I do?"  Now I look at my crossed-off list and see that, yes, even though the toilet looks pretty ugly at the end of the day, I really did scrub it at the beginning of the day.  It wasn't just in my imagination!  I really DO accomplish some things around here!
What's next for today?  Teaching Rachel to not jab her little pointy fingers up my nostrils.  Ouch.

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