After 10pm: My Sweet Spot

My days looked like this: wake up early to work before the kids were up, juggle school drop-offs and client calls, squeeze in work during nap time, then power through late into the night once the house finally quieted down.

If you peeked into my house at 10pm, you’d find me at my desk, Netflix quietly running on my second monitor. The house is finally still. The kids are asleep. My husband is settled. And I step into a rhythm that works for me.

This is my sweet spot. I tie up loose ends, answer the last client messages, and move projects forward without interruption. Then I end my night with a bath to relax my brain before bed. By the time I fall asleep, I feel calm knowing that anything urgent has been handled.

For a long time, I resisted this rhythm. I thought I had to be a 5am CEO, rising before the sun to “get ahead.” But the truth is, that’s not when I thrive. Late nights are my zone. That’s when the quiet gives me the focus I need.

Family-first scaling isn’t about following someone else’s rules for success. It’s about building a business around your rhythms. Some moms thrive in the early mornings. Others, like me, find our groove late at night. What matters isn’t the time — what matters is the system that supports you, so your business works no matter when you do.

When I honor this rhythm, mornings with my kids feel easier. I’m not rushing or stressed. I can actually enjoy breakfast, drop-offs, and the chaos of starting a new day. That’s the beauty of scaling family-first: you get to design success around your real life instead of forcing your family to fit into your business.

But on the inside, I was exhausted. The hustle was draining me. And worst of all, it was stealing from the very people I was doing it for.

I remember one afternoon vividly. My toddler tugged at my arm, asking me to play blocks. “Just a minute,” I told him, typing furiously to finish an email. An hour later, I looked up and saw him asleep on the floor, blocks scattered around him. He had been waiting for me, and I missed it.

That was the day I realized the hustle wasn’t serving me. It was stealing from me.