Do less stuff

Sometimes magic happens in the white space

I was sitting in my boss’s office — notebook, laptop, and phone balanced in my lap — listing everything I was doing to stay afloat. I was deep in working mom overwhelm, heading toward burnout, and I didn’t even know it.

I had given my assistant access to my inbox, hired an assistant principal, and even learned to close my door. I had a coach.

I took good notes in meetings and blocked time for classroom observations, but despite all my efforts, I never had time to follow up.

A child would have a crisis. A parent would need to talk. A teacher would announce her pregnancy, and I’d need to smile and celebrate and make a note to find a maternity leave replacement. All real, all urgent, all on the same day.

And I had three kids at home! It’s not like I could catch up on the weekends.

I felt like I was barely keeping my head above water.

My boss listened patiently.

He agreed I had really been trying.

When I finished, he said, “It sounds like the only thing left is for you to do less stuff.”

I laughed.

Do less stuff.

Yeah, right. Must be nice!

How could I possibly?

I looked at his eyes, waiting for the glimmer of a smile. Was he messing with me? But no, this was a sincere suggestion.

Do less stuff.

Was that even allowed?

Wouldn’t that be lazy? Selfish? Irresponsible?

What was I supposed to do? Set less ambitious goals? Have lower standards for myself?

The 85% rule

Having been rewarded my whole life for doing more, I realized that the suggestion to do less at first felt like a threat, not a relief.

And yet, the more I lived with it, the more I saw the wisdom.

Do less stuff meant focusing on the things that only I could do and delivering those the best I could without getting burned out.

I started by creating white space in my work day, using Google Calendar’s “speedy meetings” setting to build in buffer time between appointments.

And I learned other hacks, like the 85% rule: schedule yourself at no more than 85% capacity. Leave 15-20% for the life you can’t see coming but will have to deal with anyway: the child who gets sick, the refrigerator that needs replacing, the meal train for a friend in need.

One client calls this 15% white space the “Chaos Quotient.”

Chaos Quotient! I adopted this immediately.

It turns out that to really do less, I needed to look well beyond little hacks. I needed ruthless prioritization—identifying the work that only I could do and taking a scalpel to everything else.

I read stacks of books, two of which were especially helpful: Essentialism by Greg McKeown and Slow Productivity by Cal Newport (I will note that both were written by men. If anyone has a similar resource from a woman, especially a mother in leadership, please share in the comments).

Holding a mirror to my calendar, and, by extension, to my internalized sense that busy equals valuable, has not been easy.

But,

I haven’t been sick for a while.

I used to crash out and sleep for 24 hours straight every few months, and that hasn’t happened in two years. I am healthy, and my kids are healthy.

I started a company.

I’m not nearly as busy as I used to be, but I seem to be helping people.

So I’m starting to think my boss was onto something.

And it makes me want to share it with you, and with other mothers in leadership who have visions and dreams, and children, and direct reports, and human bodies.

Where could you leave a little white space next week?

What might it mean for you to do less stuff?

Is there one thing you could just stop doing—not delegate, not optimize, but stop?

🕊️

SAM

Sometimes magic happens in the white space