I’m reading Jenny Blake’s Free Time for the second time. and if you’ve ever felt proper childminder burnout, you’ll know exactly why I picked it back up. There’s a bit in it about wanting to burn it all down. Juggling all the plates, doing all the things, going a little bit mad in the process. I read it the first time and nodded along. I’m reading it the second time and living it.
There’s a lot to do for one person right now. Something I was never quite sure what I was doing with, if I’m honest, has taken off in ways I never expected. And now I’ve got to work out how to make it all work without feeling like a failure, without getting things wrong, without wanting to set fire to the whole thing and walk away.
I don’t think this is just a me thing. I think it’s a small business owner thing, especially when you’re the one running it on your own, no team to hand any of it to, every plate is yours whether you like it or not.
But I think it’s a childminder thing too, maybe more than most.
We are genuinely, really rubbish at switching off. Most jobs have some kind of edge to them, a door you walk out of, a laptop you shut, a uniform you take off. Ours doesn’t work like that. Your setting is often your home. The children you look after are in your space, in your day, sometimes in your head long after they’ve gone. You’re doing safeguarding paperwork at the kitchen table after bedtime. You’re thinking about a settling-in wobble while you’re meant to be watching telly. Putting the job down, actually down, is a skill most of us were never taught, because nobody hands you a manual for a job that lives in your house.
That’s where Free Time got me thinking. Jenny Blake talks about founder time, protected time that’s actually yours to think and work on the thing that matters, not just react to whatever’s shouting loudest. And she talks about the golden hour, one properly focused stretch where you know exactly what you’re doing and you just do it, instead of the hour disappearing into scrolling, tidying, or standing in the kitchen wondering where to even start.
I think that idea matters for childminders just as much as it does for founders. Actually, I think it matters more, because we’re so used to being available to everyone else that the idea of an hour that’s just for the thing we actually need to do feels almost indulgent.
Here’s a small example, close to home. When I ran a poll in the group about the magazine, a good few of you said the honest truth: you don’t have time to sit and read it. You’re not reading it start to finish in one go, you’re picking it up in bits, whenever a gap appears. That’s actually why the bookmark became the free gift with it for the Anniversary Issue, because so many of you told me you were reading it in sections, a page here, a page there, whenever you could grab five minutes. That’s not a criticism of anyone, it’s just what the reality of this job looks like. Time in small stolen pieces.
But here’s the bit I keep coming back to. There comes a point where you have to start making the time, not just hoping a gap appears. Because even with everything else still sitting there, unfinished, demanding, if you carve out one proper golden hour where you actually know what you’re meant to be doing, you’ll get more done in it than in three hours of half-attention and wondering what to tackle first. Making the time on purpose beats waiting for the time to magically show up. It never does.
So this Sunday, I gave myself that reminder. I try to live this stuff, not just bang on about it to you lot, but some days you need to actually take your own advice instead of just knowing it. Today was one of those days. I went to my parents’ to pick up some wood for the new allotment. Yes, I know. Did I really need to add another thing to my plate? Yes, because it’s beautiful, it’s peaceful, and it’s one of the only places I can actually breathe at the moment. Plus the Children are allowed to come too and Im super excited about what we can achieve! I spent the rest of the day looking at allotment photos and reading about growing things I haven’t planted yet. Everything else waited.
That’s the whole strategy. One small step, and everything else can wait a day.
If you’re the person doing all the things right now, the childminding, the admin, the family, the never-ending list that somehow grows even when you’re crossing things off it, I see you. If you’re also the person who hasn’t worked out how to put the job down at the end of the day, you’re not failing at this, you’re just doing a job that was never built with an off switch. That’s worth naming honestly, rather than pretending it’s just a you problem.
Whatever your version of the allotment wood is this week, go and get it. And if you can, try carving out one golden hour this week, just one, where you actually know what you’re doing and you do it. Everything else really can wait a day.
Have you read Jenny Blake’s Free Time? I’d love to know what hit you the hardest, and whether you’ve found your own golden hour yet.