Tranquility by Tuesday

Informationen zum Autor Laura Vanderkam Klappentext "For anyone who's sick of letting to-do lists dictate their time, Laura Vanderkam, the bestselling author of What the Most Successful People Do Before Breakfast, shares nine strategies for reclaiming your hours Do you find yourself hoping that someday, life will be less hectic? One day, you say, you'll finally have time for the activities that you love - writing that book, completing that triathlon, traveling with friends. But if the COVID-19 pandemic has taught us anything, it's that life is unpredictable. If we're not careful, dull, unfulfilling tasks can quickly occupy our precious hours, derail our best-laid plans, and make life feel like a slog. In Tranquility by Tuesday, Laura Vanderkam explains that if you want something to happen, you need to design your life to make it happen. Work crises, childcare emergencies, and home repairs are inevitable, and the mundane tasks of life - cooking, cleaning, laundry - aren't going anywhere. To make time for what matters, you need a resilient schedule, not a perfect schedule. Based on a time diary study of over 150 people, Vanderkam shares nine strategies for building opportunities for joy, nourishment, and fulfillment into your week, such as: Three times a week is a habit One big adventure, one little adventure Effortful before effortless This is more than a time management book about "how to do it all." It's a look at how real people changed their lives using Vanderkam's nine rules, and how you can do the same. It's about intentionally living the life that you want to live, and becoming an autonomous steward of life's possibilities"-- Leseprobe Rule 1: Give Yourself a Bedtime Going to bed earlier is how grown-ups sleep in. Somewhere, on the blurry edge of memory, I picture a scene. I am in my little brother's childhood room. He and I are creating elaborate plot lines for our Playmobil figures. By day, they run a school, a hotel, a tap dancing ensemble. Then fictional evening descends. We put the children to bed. The adults? We announce, with knowing smiles, that they are going to stay up all night. I laugh at this now, this idea that staying up all night would be a privilege of adulthood. Come actual adulthood, I feel like I spend much of my energy some days convincing the younger people in my house to go to bed so I can go to bed. There is always something else that has to happen. The toddler wants to be rocked again. Someone else's homework must go in the backpack. Someone has forgotten to tell me something very important, some story that takes meandering minutes to come to its conclusion. I love sleep. I'd like to think sleep loves me back. But sleep and I have had to work hard to maintain our relationship during these years with babies and-my own particular middle-aged dilemma-early-rising little kids and night-owl teenagers. I have become an acute observer of sleep's quirks. Some fantastical dream suddenly introduces the plot twist of a crying child-and then, in a few minutes, the dream itself has disappeared and I am in my room with an actual sleepless kid. During the infant phases when I was waking and falling back asleep multiple times per day, I learned to recognize when, exactly, sleep was starting to visit. My mind would drift somewhere related to my life and then, as a familiar weight settled, I would see some scene that could not really be happening. I dreamed lucidly at times, particularly during the naps my poorly sleeping babies necessitated. I was aware, but thinking things I normally would not. I know the bleary resignation of facing down a day without enough sleep. I know the particular despair of doing it multiple nights in a row. And yet I have seen a curious paradox with this-one that affects a great many people during the busy years of raising a family and building a ...

Autorentext

Laura Vanderkam

Klappentext

**“An indispensable manual...Tranquility by Tuesday offers plenty of inspiration for a more serene life, and down-to-earth and evidence-backed advice for actually making it happen."
--Oliver Burkeman, New York Times bestselling author of Four Thousand Weeks

For anyone who’s sick of letting to-do lists dictate their time, Laura Vanderkam, the bestselling author of What the Most Successful People Do Before Breakfast, shares nine strategies for reclaiming your hours**

Do you find yourself hoping that someday, life will be less hectic? One day, you say, you’ll finally have time for the activities that you love – writing that book, completing that triathlon, traveling with friends. But if the COVID-19 pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that life is unpredictable. If we’re not careful, dull, unfulfilling tasks can quickly occupy our precious hours, derail our best-laid plans, and make life feel like a slog.
 
In Tranquility by Tuesday, Laura Vanderkam explains that if you want something to happen, you need to design your life to make it happen. Work crises, childcare emergencies, and home repairs are inevitable, and the mundane tasks of life – cooking, cleaning, laundry – aren’t going anywhere. To make time for what matters, you need a resilient schedule, not a perfect schedule. Based on a time diary study of over 150 people, Vanderkam shares nine strategies for building opportunities for joy, nourishment, and fulfillment into your week, such as:

• Three times a week is a habit

• One big adventure, one little adventure

• Effortful before effortless 
  This is more than a time management book about “how to do it all.” It’s a look at how real people changed their lives using Vanderkam’s nine rules, and how you can do the same. It’s about intentionally living the life that you want to live, and becoming an autonomous steward of life’s possibilities.

Leseprobe

Rule 1: Give Yourself a Bedtime

Going to bed earlier is how grown-ups sleep in.

Somewhere, on the blurry edge of memory, I picture a scene. I am in my little brother's childhood room. He and I are creating elaborate plot lines for our Playmobil figures. By day, they run a school, a hotel, a tap dancing ensemble. Then fictional evening descends. We put the children to bed. The adults? We announce, with knowing smiles, that they are going to stay up all night.

I laugh at this now, this idea that staying up all night would be a privilege of adulthood. Come actual adulthood, I feel like I spend much of my energy some days convincing the younger people in my house to go to bed so I can go to bed. There is always something else that has to happen. The toddler wants to be rocked again. Someone else's homework must go in the backpack. Someone has forgotten to tell me something very important, some story that takes meandering minutes to come to its conclusion.

I love sleep. I'd like to think sleep loves me back. But sleep and I have had to work hard to maintain our relationship during these years with babies and-my own particular middle-aged dilemma-early-rising little kids and night-owl teenagers. I have become an acute observer of sleep's quirks. Some fantastical dream suddenly introduces the plot twist of a crying child-and then, in a few minutes, the dream itself has disappeared and I am in my room with an actual sleepless kid. During the infant phases when I was waking and falling back asleep multiple times per day, I learned to recognize when, exactly, sleep was starting to visit. My mind would drift somewhere related to my life and then, as a familiar weight settled, I would see some scene that could not really be happening. I dreamed lucidly at times, particularly during the naps my poorly sleeping babies necessitated. I was aware, but thinking things I normally would not.

I know the bleary resignation of facing down a day without e…