How Making a Simple List Saved My Sanity (A Working Mom’s Survival Story)

Hey there mamas!

Yesterday was one of those days when life doesn’t gently unfold — it pounces. Everything happens too much, too fast, and you find yourself sitting in the middle of it all, watching the chaos swirl around you, wondering when exactly adulthood turned into an extreme sport and whether it’s too late to opt out.

It started with an extremely early wake‑up. Technically, it was my usual early hour, but this time there was emotional damage attached: I missed my workout. That alone was enough to set the tone for the day. There was no slow start, no breathing room, just the pressure of having to leave home early and already feeling behind before the sun had fully committed to rising.

By 6:15 a.m., I was ready. Makeup on, dressed, hair cooperating just enough — a small personal victory. At 6:20, I woke up my eldest son, because the secondary school bus passes at 6:53, a time clearly designed by someone who has never met a teenager (or a mother). Breakfast preparation began, lunches were packed, and somewhere between buttering bread and cutting fruit, I loaded a Nespresso capsule. Double espresso scuro. The strong one. I drank it like a tequila shot — no joy, no ceremony, just a desperate nod to survival.

At 6:50, I woke my daughter. Her elementary school bus comes at 8:00, which sounds generous until you realize it simply stretches the chaos over a longer period. Around the same time, my little one woke up too. Normally, one of us would drop him off at daycare, but he had a cold and stayed home with his dad — a detail that would later subtly shift the household energy.

I left the house at 6:58 a.m. and immediately merged into the glorious reality of Montreal morning traffic. Despite the freezing –15°C, I arrived at a hotel near the Montreal airport at 8:36 a.m., sweating from a combination of traffic stress, mental overload, and the fear of being late. The kind of arrival where you smile politely while your nervous system is considering a full shutdown.

It was a full‑day seminar. Of course. And naturally — because life enjoys a well‑timed plot twist — this was also the exact day the hospital decided to call for an annual follow‑up. The one day I truly couldn’t answer. Missed call. Voicemail. Another invisible task quietly added to my already overflowing mental load.

As soon as the seminar ended, I was the first attendee out the door. Athletic exit, graceful speed‑walking, zero regrets. I dove back into afternoon Montreal traffic and reached home around 5:00 p.m., where reality was waiting for me with open arms and zero mercy.

The house looked like a war zone. My husband was slightly upset that he had stayed home with the little one — fellow moms with Mediterranean‑culture‑raised husbands might instantly recognize the vibe. The children surrounded me, all talking at once, sharing school stories that were clearly all urgent and could not possibly wait until after I removed my coat.

Dishes were everywhere. Beds were unmade. Homework was half‑done, optimistically labeled “almost finished.” On the bright side, there was a warm, delicious meal cooked, and honestly, that felt like winning a small but meaningful life award.

I opened my desktop to update my manager and discovered around ten emails from clients, all needing action, all approaching their deadlines with confidence and urgency. Laundry remained untouched. Groceries needed ordering. My brain went into full hurricane mode — spinning, colliding, unable to focus on any single thing without thinking of twelve others.

Have you ever felt that way? When you look around and no matter where your eyes land, something needs your attention. When everything feels urgent and your mind keeps jumping between unfinished tasks, accomplishing nothing while exhausting you completely.

That was me last night. And if I’m honest, that’s also me on many other nights, days, afternoons, and oddly specific moments like Tuesday at 10:47 a.m. Overwhelmed. Mentally loaded. Slightly dramatic but absolutely sincere.

When I reach that point, there are only two things that can calm my anxiety almost instantly. One is a dancing session. The other is making a list. Sadly, dancing wasn’t an option right then, so I had to rely on the second.

I grabbed a notebook and started writing. Not neatly. Not beautifully. No structure, no color coding, no Pinterest‑worthy intention. I simply emptied my head onto the page — emails, laundry, groceries, hospital callback, homework, work updates, all of it.

And slowly, something shifted.

The chaos left my head and landed on paper. My thoughts softened. Not because the problems disappeared, but because my brain no longer had to juggle everything at once. The list became the container.

This is why I will forever defend lists as one of the most underrated mental health tools for working moms. A list doesn’t solve your problems. It doesn’t cook dinner or answer emails or magically fold laundry. But it gives your mind permission to breathe.

When everything lives in your head, it feels loud, urgent, and impossible. When it lives on paper, it becomes manageable. One task. One line. One checkbox at a time.

Some days, I don’t even finish the list. Some days, I only cross off one thing. And yet, that alone is enough to bring back a sense of control.

Because some days, productivity doesn’t look like balance or glow or having it all together. It looks like writing things down, calming your nervous system, and reminding yourself that you’re not failing — you’re simply carrying a lot.

And sometimes, a simple list really can save your sanity!

Love, Katerina