I’ve come to believe that rhythm is one of the most underestimated forms of love.
Not the rigid kind—where the clock dictates every move and there's no room for wonder—but the kind that holds space for both structure and spontaneity, for both wildflower walks and Tuesday’s laundry. The kind that lets you exhale.
Our homeschool rhythm isn’t flashy. But it is ours. It’s been carved out slowly, through trial and error and a lot of coffee. It’s a rhythm that leaves space for deep dives and rabbit trails, for books read aloud on the couch and muddy boots by the door. It’s a rhythm that tries—imperfectly—to honor the reality that learning is a way of living, not a series of boxes to check.
Here’s what it looks like.
Monday through Wednesday: Foundation Days
6:00–9:30 AM: Rooted Beginnings
I get up before the house stirs. That first light of quiet is golden. I walk, lift weights, pray, journal. Sometimes I don’t get to all of it. But I try. By 8:30, coffee’s in hand, breakfast is humming along, and I have one precious hour to write.
It’s not always seamless, but it’s sacred.
9:30 AM–12:30 PM: Tea Time
This is our main academic block. We begin with the prayer we’re memorizing that month (Memorare, Hail Holy Queen, Morning Offering, etc), and whichever hymn from our book that we are learning (my all-time favorite has been hearing the kids sing the Salve Regina, not in the book). Then, we practice our memory verse and any poetry we are memorizing.
Then, it is Bible story and coloring time, followed by our read aloud. I try to have our tea and some baked good available to make it feel special, but even a quick snack plate with cheese and some grapes or apple slices and peanut butter is a crowd pleaser. This is key for keeping little mouths quiet as we shift to Story of the World for History.
All of that is quite a lot for little attention spans, so we then dismiss the younger kids and switch to individual subjects (we use G&B for Math and Language) before wrapping up the morning for lunch.
12:30–1:00 PM: Nourish + Tidy
We break for lunch and clean up from the morning around noon—sometimes earlier, sometimes later. It really is a rhythm more than a schedule, but I have found that the kids thrive on consistency and knowing what comes next. The structure creates stability and helps limit behavioral problems as well.
1:00–2:30 PM: Science, Popcorn Storytime, and Art
In the afternoon, we snuggle around the fire and dive into science and seasonal picture books (the popcorn helps keep little mouths quiet), followed by an online program called Art with Lauren (this sweet 45 min-1 hr lesson is mom’s quiet tea and fiction break).
2:30–4:00 PM: Chores + Homekeeping
This is our pivot into tending the home—folding laundry (or at least trying to), wiping down surfaces, starting dinner. The kids pitch in. Sometimes cheerfully, sometimes with all the enthusiasm of a cat in a bathtub. But they’re learning it matters. I divide my tasks into zones to tackle so there is just a small amount of work each day (ex. Monday Kitchen + Parent Laundry, Tuesday Bathrooms, Wednesday Floors + Kid Laundry, Thursday Bedrooms + Sheets, etc).
4:00 Dinner Prep
5:00-7:00 Dinner + Family Time
Wind Down
Reading aloud. Karate some nights. Bath and bedtime. Family prayer at 7—except on those karate nights, when it shifts to 8. You can read about our family prayer routine here (although lately, we have been loving Compline/Night Prayer). It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.
Thursday: Co-op Day
Thursdays look different. We pack lunches early and get out the door for our co-op day—a day of shared learning and community, where the kids take classes and I get to be both teacher and student in ways that surprise me. We come home tired but full, and dinner is something I threw in the slow cooker that morning with my fingers crossed.
Friday: Nature Day
Fridays are for wonder.
We use the Slow Down curriculum and follow the seasons: bees pollinating, mushrooms unfurling, birds tracing loops across the sky. We pair it with nature walks—sometimes in silence, sometimes with a running commentary of questions I don’t always have answers to. But we look. We slow. We see.
Afternoons are for catching up and resetting the house. For making sure the socks have mates (somewhere), the Mass bag is packed, and the fridge doesn’t hold any science experiments we didn’t plan.
None of it is polished. But all of it is intentional.
We don’t aim to finish everything. We aim to be faithful. We aim to cultivate wonder and wisdom and the kind of resilience that grows when a child sees a problem, wrestles with it, and finds he is capable.
If you’re in the thick of it—figuring out your own rhythm, questioning if it’s enough—here’s what I want to tell you: it’s okay to go slow. It’s okay to pivot. It’s okay if some days feel like a beautiful mess and others just feel like a mess.
Keep showing up. Keep reading the books. Keep lighting the candle. You’re building something lasting—even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.