How I Don’t Do it All

When I published my “I don’t know what’s next” post a couple weeks ago, a lot of you responded.

You didn’t ask for another list of productivity hacks or a 1-2-3 list of tips—you want the messy middle.

And you’re speaking my language, friends.

One of the big questions that kept showing up in my inbox was:

“But how do you really do it all??”

So… let’s talk about that today.

Because the honest answer is: I don’t.

From the outside, I get why it looks like I do.

You see the homestead, the Soda Fountain, the kids, the podcast, the cookbook, the planner, the random projects I get myself into… and it’s easy to think there’s some magical secret I’m not sharing.

There isn’t.

There are just tradeoffs, seasons, copious amounts of lists, and a whole lot of things you don’t see.

So let’s pull that curtain back today.

1. It’s not all happening at once

The biggest misunderstanding is that I’m doing everything, all the time, at the same level.

Hard no.

Life happens in seasons for me.

The past few months have been cookbook season—especially leading up to the extremely intense five-day photo shoot and the manuscript deadline shortly after.

You know what it wasn’t?
Horse season.

I barely rode this summer compared to summers past. It broke my heart a little, but I was pouring all my creative energy into that one big thing, which meant other things went on maintenance mode… or honestly, just on pause.

Same with Soda Fountain supper nights. On those weeks, the house is messier, we eat a ton of leftovers (or weird things from the pantry), and emails go completely unanswered.

From the outside, it looks like I’m “doing it all,” but I’m really just rotating between plates and trying not to let too many hit the floor at once.

2. Things slip through the cracks (sometimes embarrassingly so)

Here’s one that still bugs me:
This year I let a lot of tomatoes go to the chickens.

I’m honestly embarrassed to admit that. I had such good intentions—I started them from seeds, trellised them (for the first time ever!!), kept up with weeding for a month or two, and then completely neglected them once July hit.

I rallied long enough to get a couple boxes harvested and then proceeded to mostly ignore them on my way out the door to another meeting or another event… and more than once, they passed the point of no return.

The chickens feasted. The canning shelves did not.

I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.

Sometimes the laundry piles up. Sometimes we eat more “throw-it-together” meals than I’d like to publicly admit. Sometimes I say “I’ll get to that this weekend,” and then I don’t.

I don’t share every dropped ball on the internet (because… yikes), but please know: they exist.

3. I outsource my brain to paper

You should see the amount of whiteboards, checklists, and sticky notes in my life.

I know that feels stifling to some people, but for me, it’s how I sleep at night.

I checklist like a maniac. If it’s not written down somewhere, it’s going to be forgotten—guaranteed.

There are master lists, daily lists, whiteboards in my house, the office, and the Soda Fountain where we continually brain dump, and a bazillion half-baked lists in the Notes app on my phone.

I also have this weird thing where I draw little boxes in front of all my tasks so I can check them off when complete, because I have a straight-up dopamine addiction. And I need to do that with pen on paper.

My Old-Fashioned on Purpose planner isn’t a cute accessory or just a product I sell. It’s the external hard drive for my brain. It lives on my counter, gets coffee stains, and is full of scribbles and crossed-out plans.

The monthly pages help me see the big stuff: supper nights, trips, big project deadlines.

The weekly and daily sections are where I map out who needs to be where, what actually gets done this week, and which nights are realistic for “real meals” versus random fridge stuff.

Planning doesn’t magically give me more hours, but it does help me be honest about what can truly fit… and what needs to wait. And when I write something down, it’s 95% more likely to happen. (Not a scientifically-verifiable stat—but I think it’s pretty close.)

4. I listen to my gut way more now

Something shifted when I turned forty this year.

I don’t have the energy—or the desire—to keep doing things just because I can or because I’ve always done them or because other people expect me to.

If a project, partnership, or opportunity gives me that heavy, dragging feeling in my chest…
If I catch myself thinking, “I really don’t want to do this, but I guess I should…”

Then it’s a NO.

Not a “maybe later.” Not a “we’ll see.”
Just… no.

This has meant:

• Saying no to business ideas that “make sense on paper” but feel wrong in my bones

• Closing businesses or pieces of my business that are no longer in alignment for me

• Letting things end, even when people liked them

• Reducing our winter open hours at the Soda Fountain because it didn’t make sense to pay staff to be there when we weren’t busy. (Even though it made some locals BIG MAD.)

• Stepping back from commitments that used to fit but don’t anymore

My life is still full, but it’s full of things that feel connected to my values and my family, not just things that look impressive from the outside.

5. When I can’t manage it all—I cut back

This one has been humbling.

For a long time, my response to feeling overwhelmed was:
“Try harder. Work more. Power through.”

You can guess how that ended.

These days, if I’m drowning, I’ve started asking a different question:

“Do I actually have too much on my plate?”

Sometimes the honest answer is yes.

We’ve downsized animals when I realized I didn’t have the capacity to care for them as well as I’d like.

I’ve cleared out clutter from the house and barn because managing stuff takes energy, too. (I went on a selling spree a few months ago and it felt AWESOME.)

I’ve also downsized my team. For a while, I had more help than I really needed because I thought that was the next “right” step in business. But it made things bloated and inefficient. More people doesn’t automatically equal more ease. Sometimes it just adds more layers.

6. But I do have help

This part matters: I don’t do this alone.

I have my amazing VA, Cris, who keeps the online side of things from collapsing into chaos, especially when I’m checked out riding horses or writing books.

I have an incredible team at the Soda Fountain who helps cook, serve, wash dishes, and keep that 100-year-old place humming. I am not single-handedly flipping burgers, managing reservations, and scrubbing floors every day. Not even close.

Christian and the kids help with all the ranch/homestead chores: feeding cattle, buying hay, filling water.

It’s easy to scroll social media and assume someone is a one-woman show. But I’m not.

So… how do I “do it all”?

I don’t.

What you see is:

• One or two things I’m going hard on in a particular season

• A lot of other things that are paused, simmering, or imperfect

• A paper trail of checklists and plans

• A woman who’s gotten a lot more comfortable saying “no”

• A family and small team who help carry the load

So if you’ve ever felt like you’re the only one dropping balls or letting tomatoes rot or serving cereal for dinner… you’re not alone.

You don’t have to “do it all” to live an old-fashioned life, my friend.
You just have to keep choosing, day after day, what matters most in this season—
and let the rest be imperfect.

And I’m right there with you. ?

—Jill

P.S. Yes! The planners are officially printed and have started shipping. Grab yours here. You’re really going to love this year’s version. The paper and cover feel good (yes, if you’re a planner person you know that matters…).