"How do you make more time for yourself, dads?" someone asked here, in the Substack’ Notes, half curious, half desperate.

Do you want the truth? You don’t. You can’t. There are 24 hours in a day, no cheat codes, no secret stash of extra time hidden somewhere.

You have to sleep - well, hopefully. You probably work, maybe more than you’d like. And then, if you're lucky, you spend whatever’s left with your kid, your partner, your dog, or just trying to remember who you were before the chaos began.

And then suddenly - bam. The day’s gone. You’re standing there, toothbrush in hand, wondering:"Wait… that’s it? Already?"

The only real move you’ve got?

Use whatever time you do have like it matters - because it does.

Every minute, every tiny bit of quiet, every moment between the noise and the next mess - you’ve got to treat it like it’s gold. Because it is gold. Because there’s no bonus round and no retry. This is it.

So don’t wait for the perfect block of free time. Use the scraps. Use the cracks between things. Use the five minutes before bedtime, the quiet coffee at 6 a.m., the walk to the store.

Because there won’t be more time. Just this time.

Whatever you choose to do in those rare moments - read, rest, stare at the ceiling - just do yourself one solid: put the phone away.

Seriously. That little screen is a black hole for your energy. You open it for a minute, and next thing you know, you're ten videos deep into some guy building a swimming pool in the jungle with a spoon, and you're wondering,“What did I just watch… and why?”.

It doesn’t recharge you. It drains you.So give your brain a break. Let your mind breathe. Be bored on purpose. That’s where the good stuff starts.

Since nobody asked, here’s my to-do list anyway:

Real bread. The good kind.I picked up the habit during Covid - like half the planet, I guess. Back then, everyone was into baking their own sourdough, and for a while you couldn’t even find flour in Amsterdam.

But the habit stuck. My sourdough starter’s got a name - George. He’s been with me ever since. And honestly, those early morning bake sessions? They’re some of my favorite moments.

It’s still dark outside, coffee’s hot, George is rising in the oven, and the whole kitchen starts smelling like home. My home. Also music’s playing low.

And for a second - everything feels just right.

Baking really puts you in the right headspace.You’ve got to be present - because if you’re moody, things just won’t come together.

It’s almost as if the dough knows.Show up grumpy or rushed, and it’ll fight you every step.But bring good vibes, a little patience, - and suddenly, things work and you smile before you know it.

Like really listen. Old-school style. Not as background noise while doing dishes or answering emails. I sit down in a chair - lounge mode on - and I play an album. Start to finish. No skipping. No shuffling. Just listening.

Streaming changed everything. It turned music into fast food. We forgot what it feels like to pick an album on purpose, to study the cover art, to read the tracklist, maybe even flip through that little booklet that came with it.

Now? Songs just appear. Picked by algorithms. Played on the go. Half the time we don’t even know the song’s name - let alone who’s singing it.

So here’s the call, dads: go back to how you used to listen. Dust off an old favorite. Give it the time it deserves.

Just you, the music, and maybe a cold drink in hand. That’s the good stuff.

I’m not a fan of running. Running is not fun. I think about it the same way I think about football: in one, you jog in endless circles for no clear reason; in the other, twenty grown men chase a single ball like it’s made of something precious.

But here’s the thing - despite all that, running does something strange. It clears your head. Gives your thoughts some room to stretch. When I get stuck with a problem, I go for a run. I don’t try to solve anything - I just move. And somehow, by the time I’m back, the answer’s there, like it followed me home.

So maybe it’s not so pointless after all.

You don’t have to become Forrest Gump. No need to sign up for a marathon or wear those weird aerodynamic sunglasses. Here in Amsterdam, it’s just me and my three-legged dog didn't do a marathon. And we’re good with that.

But keep this in mind - whenever you feel like you don't have energy for a run, that's exactly the moment you need it most.

Run, dad, run.

This one’s the easiest to slip into the small cracks of the day.

I really like paper books - the new ones with that fresh-off-the-press smell, and the old ones with their worn yellowish pages. But I can't deny: e-books are just too practical to ignore.

They let me read whenever I get a moment - five minutes, thirty, doesn’t matter. If it's short moment in-between - it's e-book, if I have more time, it’s the real deal - something with weight, pages you can actually turn, and maybe a drink on the side.

I usually stick to no more than two books at a time, and if one doesn’t grab me, I drop it without guilt. There is not enough time for bad books and forced finishes.

Back in the day, I did graffiti. The crew we had with boys was one of the best in town, no doubt about it. As I got older, the spray cans gave way to a camera, and graffiti morphed into photography. But the drawing never really left me, I still have the skill in my hands.

These days, I find myself sketching random stuff when I’m deep in thought - or stuck in a particularly boring meeting. (One perk of remote meetings: you can doodle all you want and nobody bats an eye.)

Usually it’s just scribbles on the edge of a notebook, but sometimes I’ll reach for my pencils (nothing fancy, just b&w set) - and a sketchpad when the mood is right.

No big vision, no end goal. No meaning, really.Last time I drew a croissant that happened to be sitting on the table.

It’s not about what I draw. It’s about drawing, a process.

It’s seven in the morning. In about ten minutes, the dog will start his usual whining routine - his way of saying "it's time to go out" rain or not (yep, it rains). So, it's time to wrap up.

Today I used the quiet moments for writing this.

Before the day kicks in. Before the world wakes up. Just me, some thoughts, and a little peace.

Use your time wisely, dads.