by Elisabeth Frost

After wanting to start a blog for well over a decade, I hit publish at 4:25 pm one Saturday afternoon in 2021. Since then, I’ve hit publish 424 more times. Because that’s the way we create habits in life – do something once and then repeat.

So how did I go from wanting to do something – for years! – to actually doing it? Enter Laura and, more specifically, her rules from Tranquility by Tuesday.

Early in 2021, I was part of Laura’s time-study group trialing her nine rules aimed at “calming the chaos.” Because even with the universal limitation of a 24-hour day, we all have additional, unique constraints that bring some form of chaos – kids, pets, a long commute. It’s the stories we tell ourselves about those constraints that can make a big difference in how we structure our lives.

My stories?

I Don’t Have Time to Write. I’ll Never Stick with It, So Why Bother Starting? Or, the runaway bestseller: It’s So Much Easier to Just Scroll On My Phone and Read Other People’s Blogs.

I had lots of stories in my head, and none on paper.

Following Laura’s rules challenged me to rethink this narrative. First, I have a lot more time than I think – turns out, 168 hours each week. Second, now I had permission to claim as a habit anything I did three times a week; with regard to my writing aspirations, this released me from the notion that I had to write every day for it to count. Third? I needed to put down my phone and actually write.

For the duration of the study, I committed to writing something three times a week. I could have copied out the phone book (I didn’t) – what mattered to me was forming the habit of regular writing.

When the time study was completed, the e-mails from Laura stopped. No one was there to ask me if I had remembered to Move by 3 pm; I didn’t get reminders to plan in One big adventure, one little adventure or to write Three times a week.

In lieu of direct oversight, have I stuck with the rules perfectly? Not even close. I often forget to Plan on Fridays. I sometimes pick away at tasks inefficiently throughout the day instead of Batching the little things. During one low point, I ate onion rings and chocolate in response to catastrophizing about how long it had been since I had gone running – instead of getting up off the couch and, you know, actually going for a run (the epitome of Effortless before effortful?).

But…

I now write more than Three times a week. Last summer my family’s big adventure was a 3-week-long road trip. Laura gives equal airtime to little adventures, too. It was with this rule in mind that I invited a friend to go out for ice cream one beautiful evening…without kids. It was delicious and a highlight of my summer. Her Move by 3 pm rule was the subconscious nudge I needed to maintain a daily outdoor walking streak in 2022.

Even without perfect adherence, applying these rules have made me feel better about how I use my time. They’ve made me more mindful of my autonomy to choose well. While it’s tempting to consider a complete life overhaul, what I really needed and wanted was the inspiration to finally launch a little writing space online, say yes to a second Broadway show (a big adventure!)…and commit to a 10:30 pm bedtime (this last one is harder than it sounds).

Early in Tranquility by Tuesday Laura writes: “I believe the big pieces in your life are probably good. I don’t want to change those. I want to change how you spend an average Tuesday.”

Well, yesterday was an average Tuesday. I wrote. I walked the kids to school in the morning. I batched administrative tasks at work. My light was out before 10:30 pm.

And today? I’m guest posting for Laura Vanderkam. I’d say Three times a week is a habit provided some pretty fun results…

Your turn. What goal or habit change – big or little – currently feels overwhelming? How could you break that down into more manageable chunks or, perhaps, reframe entirely? What was your best adventure – big or little – from 2022? What’s your ideal bedtime…and do you stick to it?

Photos: Elisabeth’s usual writing spot; Elisabeth Frost

By Jennifer D. Sciubba

One of my prized possessions is a 1967 Teen Guide to Homemaking textbook, found years ago in a successful dig through the thrift store shelves. On the cover is the side profile of a sweet strawberry blonde with a pink bow in her bobbed hair. Inside, girls and boys learn the basics of ironing and good nutrition—including plenty of then-in-vogue canned food. In the section on career advice, the authors explain that boys and girls might have different goals when it comes to a career. They say that a girl “can be pretty sure that she will have to know how to be a homemaker and mother,” and so her career outside the home likely won’t be as important as it would be to a boy.

The world teens live in today is radically different from the world in 1967 when the Susans and Tommys of America were reading the Teen Guide to Homemaking, but has the gender revolution completely freed women from those societal constraints? Is the struggle over?

Sociologist Arlie Hochschild tried to answer those very questions. She studied married women working full-time, with husbands who were also working full-time and who had kids ages 6 and under; in other words, me when I was writing the first draft of this book. She watched them come home from work, fold laundry while on the phone, give the kids baths, and so on. She chronicled her observations in her book The Second Shift, in which she argued that although there had been a lot of changes in gender roles across the decades, there were still larger societal issues making some women question whether getting married and having kids was worth it. Working both a first shift outside the home and a second shift inside it was exhausting.

Multiple pressures on women is a global issue. Researchers Mary Brinton and Dong-Ju Lee find that post-industrial societies that encourage women to work outside the home while also painting them as natural caregivers have lower fertility because they impose conflicting narratives on women. We can see this difficult dynamic in East Asia. In much of East Asia, it’s the norm that men are breadwinners and women are responsible for household and child-rearing duties, but women are also welcome to work. With this gender-role ideology, women struggle to reconcile work outside the home and family responsibilities. As a result, they often have only one or two children or forgo childbearing altogether. In low-fertility Japan, a 2009 survey by the East-West Center showed that Japanese wives of reproductive age did 27 hours a week of household duties while their husbands only did 3—and most of those wives worked a paid job, too. Having a family continues to be incompatible with work for Japanese women. An OECD study of 18 member countries ranked Japan second from last “in terms of coverage and strength of policies for work-family reconciliation and family-friendly work arrangements,” and pointing out that “Japan’s childcare coverage and parental leave offered by employers are both especially weak.”

In contrast, when women are discouraged from working, their role as homemakers and mothers is clearer, and fertility is higher, but it’s the interaction between gender norms and labor-market conditions that affects fertility, not just one or the other. Fertility is actually lower in countries where men and women have equal roles, because these norms lock women into a particular lifestyle rather than give them a range of socially acceptable choices about how to combine work and family. Countries that have more flexible arrangements, rather than strict equality, have higher relative fertility, as we see in Finland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom. Finding ways to reduce the pressures on women and share household tasks can be an effective way to support women who do want children.

How does that play out in the United States? At first glance, it seems like mothers in the US have perfect freedom to choose whether or not to work outside the home, and the US does have a higher fertility rate than many countries, but if we look deeper we must acknowledge those choices are highly constrained. “Flexibility” without supportive social structures (like affordable and available childcare before school ages) means that some women who might want children will choose not to have them, and those who might want several might settle for smaller families.

The answer isn’t to prevent women from working, it’s to put policies in place to meaningfully support their choices, policies that are likely to result in higher fertility overall, with benefits to the size of the working-age population in the long run.

by Jim VanderKam

As Mary approaches a significant birthday (she catches up with me this week), I thought I would record some of the things I love and admire about her. This is hardly adequate, but it is a start, with items listed in no particular order.

Mary is really smart. Back when we were in school, she was always at the head of the class. Once we started dating, I tried matching her but never could, and the gap is only getting wider. Besides her far greater knowledge about how the world runs, I cite as evidence our work on crossword puzzles. We have been doing them together for years. At first we would sit down with a paper copy of the puzzle between us (it was cozy!). As time went on and our eyes were proving too elderly to see the one puzzle clearly, we started printing up a copy of the New York Times puzzle for each of us, although we solved them together (OK, there may have been competition from time to time). More recently we have each had the puzzle on our laptops and solve them together. But this is how it goes: no sooner does the puzzle open on our screens than Mary says something like “54 down is … and it joins 47 across which fits with 52 down.” At that point I am still trying to sound out the word “across” at the top of the first column of clues. She reads voraciously. Sure, British murder mysteries are favorites, but she also loves to read about, as she calls them, intrepid women and can often be seen studying hefty volumes about writers and even New Testament scholarship. She reads plenty of news and is enjoying it more after the inauguration in January. She has helped me out by reading drafts of books. Her suggestions and corrections regularly find their way into the finished product.

Mary is truly accomplished. She is not only smart, she has had a highly successful career in teaching, whether elementary children, children and adults who could profit from tutoring, or young mothers (and some fathers) who needed educational help to make them more successful as parents and wage earners. As one of those young mothers said, Mary is a legend in South Bend. She has volunteered her time and skill as organist and pianist many, many times, has led church adult classes, and been a member and chair of the church council.

Mary is sincerely kind and considerate, genuinely interested in other people. When she comes across something like an article or piece of news that she thinks might be of interest to someone else and that that person would like to see it, she sends it along. She is quick to complement or congratulate others upon their accomplishments and service, and she has a gift for communicating an encouraging or comforting word when that is needed.

Mary loves each member of our family and is devoted to them. In these pandemic days, she makes a concerted effort to stay in touch and loves to hear from any and all of them (pictures are most welcome). She enjoys visiting them, when conditions allow (and they have, even during the pandemic), is eager to hear about their lives, and is happy to visit by phone or Face Time.

Mary likes to satisfy her curiosity about places and things. She takes pleasure in planning trips and does so with care so that we stay in good places and see worthwhile sights that do not involve standing in long lines. Once we became eligible for COVID-19 vaccinations, she, through diligent effort, found appointments for us—something we were so grateful to have. Mary likes to explore new places, even though her spouse can prove less enthusiastic. We have different approaches. Mary is likely say: Let’s try something different. Her husband would likely think: Let’s do the same old thing.

Mary is a really good cook, and I love to eat what she cooks. If this sounds like an old-fashioned arrangement, let me explain that, when we were first married, we agreed that I would do the cooking a couple of times a week. After trying that perhaps no more than once, it became crystal clear that the plan was not feasible or at least that the results were unsatisfying. So, our compromise has been that Mary cooks—though she is liking it less these days—and I clean up afterwards. I think I got a great deal, and I am grateful to her for innumerable yummy, healthy meals.

Mary and I share a background. It is nice to have that in common. We are quite aware of the limitations of the community from which we came, but we are grateful for its virtues. It is a wonderful gift to share a faith.

And Mary is a wonderful gift for whom I thank God every day! Happy birthday, Mary!

Jim VanderKam is a retired professor living in New Jersey. 

Avengers: Endgame( PS> NO SPOILERS)

by Jasper Conway

So sorry my review was a little late. Most people might have seen the film already, considering it broke box office records and over 40 million people saw it.

So here’s my review. Endgame was the finale to the Avengers movies, which follow the story of several superheroes from the Marvel Cinematic Universe coming together to fight a villain. It had a lot of hype…and it’s worth the hype. It was definitely an incredible film — emotional, exciting, and spectacular, and without the usual superhero ending. The epic dramatic fights between the villains and the superheroes and their heroic acts as they save others and (mostly) themselves make Endgame in my opinion one of the best movies, not just in Marvel, but ever.

I would recommend this film for anyone (including kids ages 8+) who likes superhero movies, as it’s less violent than Infinity War. If you are not a big Marvel fan, I would still see it, because it’s a moving story.

Jasper’s rating: 96%

(Laura’s note: I’m turning the blog over today to one of my favorite guest posters, Jasper. He had some help from little brother Sam.)

My family just spent 5 days at Disney World in Orlando. One of the biggest reasons people go to Disney is the rides! Here is a list of 25 rides we went on during our Disney World adventure, ranked by how good they are — worst to best — with my suggestions of how long you should be willing to wait in line.

Important to note: We did not go on Space Mountain, the Tower of Terror, Expedition Everest, Splash Mountain, and several other favorites. This is just a ranking of the ones we did!

25. Carousel/Magic Kingdom. It’s OK, but it’s just like every other carousel. Worth waiting: 5 minutes.

24. Living with the Land/Epcot. A little educational boat ride we went on while waiting for a FastPass. Very boring at times, but it can be interesting to see the foods we eat as plants. Worth waiting: 10 minutes.

23. Astro Orbiter/Magic Kingdom. There is a very small seat for two people in a rocket that goes around in circles up in the air. We could barely fit, so a little uncomfortable. You have to go up in an elevator, which takes time, and it’s pretty short in the end. Worth waiting: 10 minutes.

22. Jungle Cruise/Magic Kingdom. A boat ride with jokes that are funny…the first time. Nothing really interesting. Worth waiting: 10 minutes.

21. Frozen Ever After/Epcot. A boat ride in the Norway pavilion through Frozen scenes. In the end, it’s quick and the story ends before you know it. Sadly this ride has too long of lines for what it’s worth. Worth waiting: 20 minutes (but the lines average about 60, and you won’t get lower than 40).

20. Ariel’s Journey/Magic Kingdom. Travel on a seashell through the story of the Little Mermaid. A nice ride but just a normal attraction that’s not really special. Worth waiting: 20 minutes.

19. The Seas with Nemo and Friends/Epcot. A nice trip to see Nemo and his pals. This is a nice attraction to do when you have some extra time, as the aquarium at the end is fun for parents and kids. Worth waiting: 20 minutes.

18. It’s a Small World/Magic Kingdom. A boat ride through international scenes of characters singing. It’s considered a classic, but kind of repetitive. Worth waiting: 20 minutes.

17. Spaceship Earth/Epcot. This ride through the Epcot dome shares knowledge about how we created technology, and is a good and fun attraction, though not amazing. Worth waiting: 20 minutes.

16. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. A nice calm ride for kids through scenes from the Winnie the Pooh cartoons. Worth waiting: 25 minutes.

15. Na’avi River Journey/Animal Kingdom. Special effects and beauty make this ride a calm and peaceful trip through Pandora. Not nearly as good as nearby Avatar Flight of Passage, so use your FastPass for that one. Worth waiting: 40 minutes (the lines are usually longer, but can dip to 40 minutes in the last hour of the day).

14. Buzz Lightyear/Magic Kingdom. A shooting ride where you fire at targets (and Zurg). Good for all ages to see how much you can score. Worth waiting: 20 minutes.

13. Peter Pan’s Flight/Magic Kingdom. A cool ride through London and Neverland. You’re in a boat seeing the whole story from above. Worth waiting: 40 minutes (Laura’s note: which means you need a FastPass. I never saw it under about 60).

12. Pirates of the Caribbean/Magic Kingdom. A classic, if disconcerting at times. Make sure your kids are OK with scenes of pirate violence. Try to find Jack Sparrow! Worth waiting: 25 minutes.

11. Dinosaur/Animal Kingdom. A journey 65 million years into the past to see life-sized dinosaurs. Fun, but a little jumpy and scary at times as you try not to get hit by the dinosaur-destroying meteor. Worth waiting: 30 minutes.

10. Toy Story Mania/Disney’s Hollywood Studios. This is a better shooting game than Buzz as you do carnival type games and compete to get the best score in your group. Worth waiting: 35 minutes (Laura’s note: rare during the day; aim for evening).

9. Star Tours/Disney Hollywood Studios. Fly through a simulated Star Wars world. This ride is different every time and it makes a good experience as you bump around and barely escape the Empire. Worth waiting: 25 minutes.

8. Seven Dwarves Mine Train/Magic Kingdom. A kids’ coaster that is exciting and fun. You get to see the dwarves at work in the mines. Worth waiting: 55 minutes (Laura’s note: rarely happens — so get a FastPass).

7. Kilimanjaro Safari/Animal Kingdom. See all the animals of Africa on this safari ride. Worth waiting: 35 minutes.

6. Slinky Dog Dash/Disney’s Hollywood Studios. An exciting acceleration coaster that makes you put your hands up in the air and have fun going through turns and mild drops. Worth waiting: 50 minutes (Laura’s note: FastPass or last hour of the day).

5. Big Thunder Mountain Railway/Magic Kingdom. An extremely fun roller coaster where you pretend to be on a runaway mine train. It will make you want to do it again and again! Worth waiting: 50 minutes.

4. Soarin’/Epcot. Incredible, breath-taking experience as you soar around the world. Amazing for everyone (kids over 40 inches and adults). Worth waiting: 40 minutes.

3. Test Track/Epcot. You design your own car, but the best part is fast racing down the track at 65 miles per hour. Worth waiting: 55 minutes.

2. Rock ‘n Roller Coaster starring Aerosmith/Disney’s Hollywood Studios. The only Disney coaster with inversions, this ride accelerates fast, has great scenery, and cool music. Worth waiting: 80 minutes.

1. Avatar Flight of Passage/Animal Kingdom. Fly on a banshee over Pandora. This is the best ride at Disney, and is simply incredible. Worth waiting: 150 minutes (Laura’s note: and it will be 150 minutes right up until the park closes! Get a FastPass for sure!)

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2018)

How the Grinch Stole Christmas is a great film to see with your kids this Christmas season. This version of the story is loosely based on the classic 1966 film (with the song “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch”), but gives much more detail to the story. The biggest difference? More back story about the Grinch. We learn that he was a young orphan who always wanted a happy Christmas, but never got one. So he decides that he hates everything about Christmas and wants no one else to have a Christmas either. This version also develops Cindy Lou Who’s story, and explains more about why she’s up spying on Santa. This film has plenty of laughs and overall has a good main idea to carry the plot for about 1 hour and 45 minutes vs. the 1966 film’s 26 minutes. This film is definitely one to see, particularly with kids ages 4-10. I would give this film a 91/100.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them 2: The Crimes of Grindelwald

This incredible movie is easily one of the best in the Harry Potter franchise. Grindelwald, a precursor of Voldemort, is held in a prison, but escapes through magic. He travels to Paris where he gathers allies for his cause of raising pure-blood wizards to rule over the muggles. Dumbledore, who cannot fight Grindelwald himself, asks Newt Scamander, one of his former students, to find Credence, a pure-blood wizard who is key to the last part of Grindelwald’s plan. The movie is about Scamandar’s quest, with plot turns all over the place, including unlikely family relationships. This film is definitely a great one and is recommended for kids ages 8 and up (because of some violence). Their parents might like it too! 97/100.

Ralph Breaks the Internet

Vanellope and Ralph are video game characters, living in an arcade, doing the same things every day. Then one day, because of Vanellope’s complaints about this monotony, Ralph decides to try to make a new track in Vanellope’s racing game, Sugar Rush. Unfortunately, the wheel used for her arcade game breaks and everyone in the racing game has to get out before the owner unplugs the cable. When the owner can’t pay for a new wheel, Ralph and Vanellope go in to the internet to find the wheel on eBay. This results in a surprisingly funny adventure featuring overbidding, YouTube, Disney Princesses, and an entrepreneur named Yesss. I recommend this movie to 5-10 year olds because it’s funny with almost nothing that’s scary. I would give this film a rating of 95/100.

Jasper is a 6th grader living in Pennsylvania, where he enjoys acting, swimming, and studying the movie revenue statistics on Box Office Mojo. 

by James Stead

We moved into a tiny house. Specifically, a backyard apartment that we built in 2010 in order to gain a guest room and an office for Elisabeth.

Here’s the full story… When we started dating, Elisabeth lived in a 300 square foot condo and I had just moved into a 750 square feet house after 2 years living in a Subaru followed by a year living in/on a bicycle. We are minimalists at heart.

She moved into my 750 square feet place here in Boise and in 2010 we had two dogs who didn’t get along, we both worked at home, and we were expecting a baby. We needed more room. Elisabeth wanted a “writing shed.” She envisioned a Home Depot Tuff Shed with a desk and a window, but I took over and we built a tiny house in the backyard. It gave her a place to work, our parents a place to stay when they visited, and in 2010 we put it on Airbnb. It was the 2nd Airbnb in Boise. We named it The Shed in honor of the writing shed concept.

In late 2011 the combined 1000s square feet was still not serving us and we went hunting for a bigger place. We were looking for ~2000 sqft but we weren’t finding the right place. Instead we bought a 4000 sqft house just 2 blocks from our original place. The location appealed to us both and Elisabeth liked the big house idea, having grown up in a large house with 4 siblings. We kept the original house and the tiny house as rentals and enjoyed the big house for 6 years.

It was a pleasure to be able to host large parties and share the house with friends in need, but there were big house woes too. I never knew which of the 6 bedrooms the kids would be in when I woke up, and they spread chaos throughout. When one room was too messy to occupy they simply moved to the next. Elisabeth and I both enjoy a tidy space and neither of us relishes the tidying, so it was a bit trying.

Our kids seem to do better when they are challenged. They are better behaved when traveling than at home, and they are more generous when they have less to protect. As an example, Snowden was given a baby doll when she was about 18 months old and loved it. Seeing her joy, grandmothers soon showered her with babies and baby clothes. I can remember a time a few years later when she sat on the stairs with her FOURTEEN baby dolls, crying because some friends were coming to play and she couldn’t possibly protect all 14 babies from the intruders.

We were constantly pruning “stuff” and our extended family frequently joked that if you opened any cabinet in our house it would be empty. We had so many systems for maintaining order and the systems required constant maintenance.

By a few years ago, I realized we had lived in our big house longer than I have lived in any house in my life, and I had lived in Boise longer than I’ve lived in any town. I was getting restless. Elisabeth saw that, and not wanting to leave Boise, she started urging a move to The Shed. I thought she was insane — she is — but she’s also a genius. Anyone who has spent as many as five minutes with her can attest to both of those statements. It took about a year for me to see that in moving to The Shed we would free up so much time — and some $ — that we’d be able to dramatically increase our travel without abandoning the community we’ve enjoyed so much in Boise.

In September 2017 we rented out the big house and made the move to The Shed. We sold/gave away a ton of stuff, but we also put our nicer furniture and art into storage. We retained one garage bay at the big house for storage of bikes, camping gear, and out-of-season clothing.

We now feel like we’ve fooled the whole world. Let me explain: I was at the Fort Lauderdale boat show earlier this month and it drove home the fact that there is nothing to benefit from chasing consumer dreams. One can buy a $20 million boat and still they aren’t keeping up with the folks who have $100 million boats. And none of those boats are any more seaworthy than a $500,000 boat. There is no difference in functionality, nor in the happiness quotient of the owners.

I feel the same way about 200 vs. 4000 square feet. We have more time for friends, for each other, and for travel. We plan to stay in The Shed for a few years before figuring out what’s next.

Presumably we will need more space when the kids are teenagers.

Bio: Bio: James Stead is a realtor in Boise who worked formerly as an investment manager. An avid skier, mountain biker, swimmer, and traveler, he lives in Boise with his wife, two children, and Labrador. 

by Elisabeth Sharp McKetta

Above all I love three things: my people, my work, and being a flaneur.

My people: my smart, weird jack-of-all-trades husband. My generous, storytelling 4-year-old son and my insightful critical-thinking 7-year-old daughter who could argue a tree out of its branches.

My work: book-writing, coaching writers, and teaching online for Harvard Extension School.

And being a flaneur: when years ago I first heard the word (French, meaning an idler or stroller) I thought “yes!” and claimed it. I have always loved the feeling of being a wanderer, a long-distance walker, the world my home, any café my kitchen, any flat surface my desk, any grassy stretch my yard. I love to wander, both in cities and nature. I love to head into town with my children on their razor scooters and see what we find.

Earlier this year I went on a walking trip with my dad, who is retired and boisterously healthy at 70. We walked the Thames River path from rural Western England to London, starting at the green cow-pasture source and walking in the direction of modernity. We averaged 17 miles a day and slept in pubs, stooping under low ceilings and into overgrown gardens, making friends with small-town locals and eating sticky toffee pudding for dessert. For two weeks, we carried all our worldly supplies in small 18-liter backpacks from town to town.

Part of the pleasure in being a flaneur is in distilling an entire life to the necessary things: people and work (I travel with my laptop, for writers always have homework). Wandering in the world feels both healthy (walking is great exercise) and social (good conversations are bound to happen). I love the travelling lightly, the being portable, the having on my body all I need and want, and overall the feeling of being open to the world in a way that is impossible to do from inside a house.

Even before having children, I had long wished to replicate this feeling of ease and simplicity in my home life. After children, the need to simplify felt more urgent, for our life had been feeling increasingly heavy. I found that the greatest exhaustion I felt was when I crossed the threshold from world to house: after I had been out in my community writing, or meeting a student, or taking my kids on our bikes to some cool garden or museum—and then we’d park our bikes and enter the house and suddenly a weight would fall onto my shoulders.

There was just so much to do. A big house is never clean. A house with children always has too many random objects strewn about. A house with children and a new puppy (what fools, fools we were to get a puppy when we still had a baby!) generally has some mild crisis, a baby sock swallowed and barfed or pooped out, or some dollhouse furniture chewed, or else a beast rattling around in its crate, and the attendant guilt.

My husband—our main-house-fixer and the caller of plumbers when I treat the dishwasher too harshly or when one of the children accidentally flushes a diaper—felt the same way. The house was tiring him, and it was costing us most of our earnings and too often some of our savings. We own a big house in Boise, a 6-bedroom complete with indoor hot-tub and backyard office: “the 80s dream house,” our friends called it; it had room for everybody and everything.

But I found that in order to focus wholly on my people or my work, my two great loves, I had to be in the mode of my third great love: wandering, idling outside of the house. At home, I was always multitasking and half-listening. The kids behaved better too when not at home: rather than bickering about an object or being told “No!” in anticipation of all the household havoc they were always on the brink of wreaking, they allied themselves as friends and siblings and looked curiously at the world and its wonders; out of the house, I could say yes more. I could be the parent I wanted to be.

We own a 250 square foot adjacent dwelling unit (i.e. mother-in-law apartment) that we built in the backyard of our 2-bedroom starter home that we left because it was (oh irony!) too small. The architect built it to look like a teahouse mixed with a fairy tale woodcutter’s cottage, though we think it looks more like a houseboat. We refer to this dwelling as “The Shed” and have long joked about moving into it when life got too heavy.

But it was always just a joke.

The catalyst came one night in the spring of 2017, when the house was a disaster, the cleaner had cancelled, the dog had had diarrhea over 3800 sq. ft. of carpet, and the kids had gone to bed in a stalemate over a Lego ninja, and I was lying in bed entertaining a fantasy about jumping into a lifeboat and letting the whole ship of our heavy house sink. I had been scheming, as I often did at night, about how I’d keep our family afloat, financially, house-wise, and joy-wise, and a scenario had emerged, as wholly as a new baby emerges, down to every last detail, screamingly alive: we would go into my lifeboat together. We would move to the Shed. I would leap off the heavy ship with only my children, my husband, the dogs, and a small suitcase for each of us. We would be a family of flaneurs.

I leaped out of bed, found my husband in his office across the hall, and proposed the impossible.

His face at first looked apprehensive, scared and white, as if it had been poached. I was talking in the middle of the night, not my usual hour, about abandoning ship, this ship he and I had worked so hard to navigate and keep afloat. But then the idea clicked and I saw the gears began turning for him, and he hurried to his desk and got his notepad and then the show was on. We spent the rest of the night awake, planning out the details.

We would live in a dwelling that cost literally nothing. My husband and I would share my old office, which stood in the back of the big house. We would have income from renting both main houses, which would more than cover our mortgages. As long as we didn’t spend it all at Whole Foods and on vacations, we could build up a treasure of savings, or at the very least we’d stop depleting our savings, and we’d stop stressing about money, time, and mess. We would take our partially weathered selves, our nine-year-marriage, and our rosy, new children, and enjoy it all properly.

We hacked out a list of systems:

• We would keep a vegan kitchen for ease and cleanliness.
• We would drop off our laundry each week at Jiffy Clean wash-and-fold, which would save me hours of doing everyone’s laundry.
• We would share my garage-office behind the big house, located two long blocks away from the Shed; it would be a quiet writer’s office in the early mornings and the evenings, and it would be a noisier real estate agent’s office during the 9-5 hours.
• Rather than an endless linen closet of towels, we four would share two towels and teach the kids how to hang them.
• We would keep seasonal wardrobes of 8 outfits each (Boise has two seasons: hot and cold) and store the rest of our clothes in a bin in the garage.
• We would keep all the kids’ toys in a bin in the garage and let them choose a few for their smaller toy bins that would fit onto the Shed shelves. To our astonishment, the kids did not mutiny; rather, they declared that in the Shed, all toys would be “sharing-toys” so they could double the goods.
• We would try to be out of the Shed between breakfast and dinner, even though we work at home and can set our own schedules; we would get memberships to all of the local organizations: Discovery Center, Zoo, Botanical Garden, pool, and we could go somewhere each day.
• We would stay in town in the fall and the spring, when Boise weather is lovely and the kids are in school, and we would consolidate our travelling into the winter and summer.
• We love hosting, so would keep a sofa that could convert to a bed and invite the kids’ sleepover friends to bring sleeping bags. In the warm months, we’d host dinners outside. In the freezing months, we’d host smaller dinners inside or bring meals over to friends’ houses.

Everything else we could continue as we had done before: James would be on morning kid-duty while I wrote before breakfast, I’d be on afternoon kid-duty while he saw clients, we’d try to do dinner as a family as often as possible, and I’d teach my classes twice a week at night.

It didn’t seem like shed-dwelling would be that hard. People had lived in small dwellings for hundreds and thousands of years, in less space and with fewer luxuries than we had. We didn’t see why it wouldn’t work. In our mind, it would look like early retirement, the way people downsize houses in their twilight years, but we would do it with kids and work. It would also look like camping, but with hot water and flushable toilets and quite comfortable beds.

For the rest of the spring, a taut new energy sparkled around us. We were planning something for our future. A big something—a something that, more than anything else we had planned, secured our future. If we move into the lifeboat, where might we go? What might be possible? When we told our friends our plan to leave the big house and move to the tiny one, they asked, “Haven’t you heard of moderation?”

We moved into the Shed in September 2017, so this September marks our first anniversary of being tiny house inhabitants. We are still honeymoony about the Shed. At least once a day, my husband or I say to the other, “I LOVE shed-dwelling.” For our time is spent in ways that align with our dreams. If I wish to spend time playing and telling stories with my children, I do—I can. I have the time and the mental space. If I wish to take the dog for a several-hour hike, I do—I can. If I wish to adventure with my children every afternoon, rather than doing housework, I do—I can.

Ordinary life these days has the simplicity of travel, where the only objects we steward are the ones we need, and where the only things on our home-to-do list are the ones that are truly necessary.

These days when our friends come to visit us on weekends or after school, they tend to find us in the middle of leisure activities: my son building a Lego village on the floor, my daughter deep in an art project involving mermaids, James and I sitting on the deck in conversation.

Our friends sit with us and have a beer. Sometimes they complain about their own massive house and yard projects. They say, “I guess that isn’t a problem for you anymore.” Then they glance around our tiny house and say, “I think this may be genius.”

We think so, too.

Elisabeth Sharp McKetta is the author of the biography Energy, as well as five previous books. She teaches writing for Harvard Extension School and was named their 2018 teacher of the year. She is at work on a memoir titled ShedDwellers about tiny house family life. 

by Jody Robbins

Everyone likes to think they won’t change once they have kids, but we all know how that goes. Take travel, for instance. While it’s totally possible to roam the globe with tots in tow, it’s also crazy hard work. Even vacationing with your nuclear family often isn’t as relaxing as friends’ Instagram shots make it out to be. That’s why after years of researching and writing about family travel, I’ve become a big proponent of multi-generational trips.

Multi-generational trips aren’t all about securing built-in-babysitters — though if offered, it is a nice benefit! When traveling with family, you’re spending productive time with those you love. You’re creating memories and more importantly, fostering bonds for your children and their relatives. Sharing costs and childcare duties is the icing on the cake.

But family being family means there are inevitable issues that will arise in either the planning or executing of your trip. Here’s how to avoid them.

Know before you go

First you need to figure out who you want to travel with. Realize that if you’re inviting one sibling and you have others, they might feel neglected. Once the people are sorted, you’ll need to figure out the place. Ideally, your location is one that’s of interest to everyone and easily accessible.

Before the destination can get nailed down, however, you need to discuss budget. Who’s paying for what? Can everyone chip in to share a large house or do you need the privacy of an all-inclusive resort? Is there an expectation the grandparents are paying? (Somebody better call Grandma if that’s the case!)

Besides the accommodation, how will you handle meals? Not every family can afford to eat out everyday. If you’re dispersed across the country, schedule a Skype call or hash out your ideas via email before you commit.

Time well spent

Fans of this blog know the benefits of jotting things down on a calendar. Some families go a step further and make an Excel spreadsheet of their vacation days to share with the group. Kids benefit from routine and you’ll be able to thwart any last minute excursions that you don’t want to do. Jot down nap times, when you want to go for a run, etc. so everyone knows your intentions. This type of spreadsheet can also be used for meal planning if you’d like to organize each family taking on a night of dinner duty.

Because you probably don’t want to spend every waking minute together, it’s a good idea for nuclear families to carve out a few hours each day for themselves. This gives your children necessary downtime and your spouse a chance to vent about your (possibly annoying) relatives. Everybody can use a break, so don’t feel guilty for carving out this time for your family.

How to get a break on multigenerational trips

Free babysitting is a bonus on extended family trips, but not a given. Ask in advance if a relative can watch your kids for a specific time frame while you and your partner go off on your own. See if you can swap off with other parents. If a teen is on the trip, offer to hire them as a babysitter. If you really want some downtime for yourself, you need to figure out in advance how to make it happen. Realize it won’t magically appear.

Discuss discipline

Some parents have no problem with others disciplining their children. Others do. You know which type you are. Kids on vacation will get overtired and can misbehave in unfamiliar environments. In my research, most parenting experts agree it’s the parent in charge of the kids at any particular moment who sets the guidelines. If you’re not cool with that, let the other vacation-goers know how you’d like discipline to be handled. Prepare to give up some semblance of control if you’re not always the caregiver.

Admittedly, ground rules don’t sound like fun, but they can alleviate issues. Shared spaces are no one’s territory. Each family is going to have their own ideas about bedtimes and the like. Try to gain some common ground and if you can’t, explain to your children that there are different rules for different families.

You want to set your family up for success and that’s best accomplished through clear communication in advance of your trip.

Jody Robbins is a freelance family travel writer based in Canada. For more advice on family travel visit her site, TravelsWithBaggage.com or pick up her book, 25 Places in Canada Every Family Should Visit. Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter.

Laura’s note: Today’s guest post deals with the topic of parents who say they “never” miss a special occasion. I’ll be back tomorrow – thanks!

by Camille Preston

I recently attended an all-day learning event where business leaders shared their wisdom and experience. It wasn’t even 9:15 and the first two speakers had both gloated about how they never miss an important event for their children. While I felt conviction and a deep sense of pride in their statements, both times, I cringed.

Parents Who Claim to Do It All

The first speaker said she never missed a recital, performance, or special cupcake moment. As I stepped back to ponder her words, I noticed my own guilt. In fact, I even repeated her words, “I never missed a…” When I did this, I inserted all the things I had missed only two weeks earlier. I missed my daughter’s second year pediatric appointment (confession: I may be afraid of her doctor myself… so this may not have been a bad thing to miss). I was with my daughter on her birthday, but I chose to speak to a group of philanthropists that evening, and the list goes on.

I decided to cut the first speaker some slack—she was a single mother doing it all and deserved my full attention. When the second speaker spoke about how he never missed a t-ball practice, however, my BS radar was on high alert. First, he spoke about how many games his dad missed. Then, although he was talking about values, he spent his talk trashing his own father and celebrating the different decisions he was making as a parent with a demanding career. There was a level of disingenuousness that I couldn’t overlook.

Now, both speakers have big careers, with high visibility jobs, significant travel demand, and numerous speaking engagements and appearances. I can’t help but doubt that their speaking agents consult the t-ball coach before booking. In addition, it is a privilege to be able to leave work early to get to the t-ball diamond—not everyone has the seniority and flexibility to do this. Do they turn down any engagement that conflicts with their children’s schedules? What do they do when there is a wet season and games get rained out and rescheduled? Do they reschedule their speaking engagements?

This is precisely what I was thinking about when I learned that I had missed another event—the end of year school picnic at our pre-school. What? I was in total disbelief. I had left a meeting early, literally ran 1 mile to my son’s pre-school to be late, sweaty and out of breath for the piñata party that he didn’t want to attend. How is it possible that the very next day, they had another party in the afternoon? Who thinks two days of events back-to-back is a good or necessary thing? Was my kid the only one being picked up by childcare at the picnic?

Being Realistic and Reliable

As I write about this, I am noticing my own privilege. I aspire to live in accordance with a specific set of values and adhere to high standards. Most of the time, I am able to do this due to a simple fact: I have a supportive spouse and a great team that supports my life and work. Sure, I miss a picnic or party from time to time but most of the time, I am able to be present for my children and my clients.

After my face-to-face encounter with the parenting hoax, however, I have decided to start asking myself three questions whenever I’m faced with something that appears to be a potential parenting/work conflict. First, next time someone tells me they never miss their child’s special moments, I’m going to ask, “Is it true?” Given that all of our children’s moments are special, the answer is obvious. Second, I’m going to ask, “Is it kind?” By this, I simply mean, when we prioritize one event over another, whose feelings and needs are being taken into account? Is it really kind to cancel on a client in crisis in order to bring your four-year-old to a birthday party for a kid he barely knows? What is the long-term impact of this decision? Finally, I’m going to ask, “Is it necessary?” Missing your child’s birthday altogether may be unforgivable, but dipping out to give an evening talk, especially if your child is two-years-old and going to fall asleep by dinner, arguably isn’t unforgivable and may be a good use of time.

The reality is that that we all have expectations about what we should do but sometimes, these “should-dos” lack logic and fail to respond to the needs of the people we love most in the world. For working women who are often under tremendous pressure to do it all, bearing this is in mind may be especially essential. After all, it could be the difference between finding the perfect balance between family and work – and burning out.

As CEO of AIM Leadership, Camille has over 20 years of experience working with individuals and teams to identify specific actions they can take to amplify impact. A psychologist by training, she is particularly skilled at recognizing the underlying patterns that inhibit performance, and helping people unlock their capacity for excellence, action, and impact.