How I Balance Personal Growth With Parenting

It was 9:47 PM on a Tuesday. Enzo had finally stopped calling for water, Cataleya had surrendered to sleep mid-sentence about her guinea pig, and I sat down at the kitchen table with my laptop, a cold cup of tea, and approximately 40 minutes before I'd be too tired to form coherent thoughts.

This was my "personal growth time."

I laughed out loud. Alone. In my kitchen.

Here's the thing nobody tells you about trying to grow as a person while raising kids: it's not the grand reinvention you imagined. It's Tuesday nights and 40 minutes and deciding if you want to read, journal, take an online course, exercise, or just stare at the wall in peace. You cannot do all of them. Some nights you pick none of them and watch TV, and that's also fine.

But over the past couple of years, I've actually gotten better at this. Not perfect — better. Here's what's actually worked for me.

I Stopped Waiting for "Someday When Things Calm Down"

This was the biggest mental shift. I used to think I'd get serious about learning Spanish, finishing that leadership book, or starting a journaling habit once we were past the chaos stage — whatever that meant.

The chaos doesn't end. It just changes shape. Teething becomes homework arguments becomes teenage drama (so I'm told). If I waited for a calm stretch to work on myself, I'd be 74 and still waiting.

So I stopped treating personal growth like a luxury for quieter seasons and started treating it like a non-negotiable — something I fit in, not something I find.

I Picked One Thing at a Time (Seriously, Just One)

I have a bad habit of wanting to do everything at once. Read more. Exercise consistently. Learn something new. Meditate. Call my friends more.

What actually happens when I try all of these simultaneously: I do none of them well and feel like a failure by week two.

Now I pick one focus for a season — usually 6 to 8 weeks — and I go all in on that single thing. A few months ago it was reading. I read for 20 minutes every night before bed. That's it. No journaling, no podcasts, no course. Just books.

It sounds small. I finished four books in two months. That's four more than the previous six months combined.

When you have limited time and energy, depth beats breadth every time.

My Kids Became Part of It (When It Made Sense)

Cataleya is nine, which means she asks questions constantly and wants to understand everything. So I started narrating some of what I was learning.

When I was reading about habit formation, I told her about habit loops at dinner. She immediately applied it to why she always wants a snack after school. ("That's a cue, Mom!") Enzo, who is six and mostly interested in dinosaurs and whether he can have another cracker, occasionally absorbs more than I expect.

I'm not trying to turn our dinner table into a classroom. But modelling curiosity and learning — letting them see me actively working on myself — feels like one of the better things I can do as a parent. I want them to see that adults don't stop growing. That there's no finish line.

Some of my growth practices are mine alone (journaling, early morning walks). But some of them, I've found, work just fine with small people underfoot.

I Protect a Small but Real Window of Time

I'm not a morning person, but I've become a 6 AM person out of necessity. Thirty minutes before Enzo wakes up and starts asking if we have any of the good cereal — that window is mine.

I don't check email. I don't scroll. I do whatever I've designated as my one focus: read, write, plan, walk. That's it.

Some parents swear by late nights. Some split it across nap time or lunch breaks. The timing doesn't matter as much as the consistency. A small protected window, held loosely (life happens), is worth more than a perfect morning routine you abandon by week three.

The word "protect" is intentional. That time doesn't protect itself. I had to tell my husband it was important to me. I had to stop saying yes to things that ate into it. I had to get okay with sometimes disappointing people.

I Measure Progress Differently Now

I used to judge whether I was "growing" based on visible, external outcomes. A promotion. A completed degree. Something I could point to.

Parenting quietly dismantled that for me.

Now I measure growth by questions like: Am I more patient than I was a year ago? Do I handle stress differently? Am I more honest with myself about what I actually want?

None of that shows up on a resume. But it shows up in how I parent, how I show up in my marriage, and how I feel in my own skin.

Some seasons, the biggest growth I can point to is that I stopped yelling about spilled milk as a reflex. That counts.

Give Yourself Actual Credit

Here's something I had to learn the hard way: raising two humans while also trying to be a whole person is genuinely hard. Not in a martyr way. Just factually.

You don't need to optimise every spare hour. You don't need to be working on yourself constantly to be growing. Rest is part of it. Showing up imperfectly every day is part of it.

If you're reading this, thinking about how to grow while also keeping small people alive and loved — you're already doing it. The thinking is part of the doing.

Tuesday nights at 9:47 PM, cold tea and all.

What does personal growth look like in your house right now? I'd love to hear — the messy, realistic version.