Are You Ready for August?
Aug 04, 2025
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π»Let's Talk About Saying Noπ»
Whether or not you have school-aged kids, August has a New Year vibe. The calendar may say there are still months to go, but the cultural energy shifts. Fall starts whispering. Planners come out. Routines creep back in. By the time Labor Day rolls around, you can almost hear a click as we buckle up: Okay, here we go.
Which is exactly why I started practicing No Week.
Every year when my kids went back to school, I did something radical. I declared the first full week No Week.
If someone asked me if I could make brownies? No.
Chair a committee? No.
Run errands? Go to Target? Squeeze in an appointment. No. No. No.
Could I pick up your child because I live close to school? No.
Could I drop your dog at the vet? No.
We’re out of milk, could I run to the store right now just for that? No.
Could I make your favorite meal that requires shopping at three different stores? No. (There were No Weeks when I opted out of cooking. Completely. I’m not saying I didn’t feel my family. I’m saying I did not personally cook a single meal. Here’s the beautiful part: my kids stepped in. They chose meals. They figured it out. They got creative. My kids are also great cooks. Coincidence? I think not.)
I didn’t schedule. I didn’t volunteer. It was No Week. Obviously, I didn’t ignore emergencies or pretend real life wasn’t happening, but I had one week out of the year where I chose to do nothing extra. (Sounds scandalous, doesn’t it? What until you try it and realize how often you say yes!)
No Week is a gentle interruption of the everything always energy that’s seeped into our days. Even if our brains have been trained to expect instant results, our hearts can’t keep up. No Week is a way to remember that we don’t live at the speed of technology. We’re allowed to be people. With limits.
(Okay, full confession: There may have been a year when I intentionally scheduled No Week to avoid a certain request that I knew was coming. I’m not proud, but also, not sorry. Call it strategy, or a character flaw. Either way, it worked.)
I didn’t make a big announcement. No running around announcing, “Hey, it’s my No Week, so good luck.” I just quietly stepped back and held the line. What do you think would’ve happened if I had announced No Week?
Exactly.
No Week hint #1 During No Week, here’s a secret. Just say no. Not “No, I’m sorry.” Not “No, but maybe next week.” Not “No, I wish I could.”
Just…no.
It’s a skill. It’s a boundary. It’s a kindness to yourself. No week is the safest place I know to practice it.
Here’s what surprised me. When you start saying no kindly, clearly, without apology, you see something shift. People figure things out. They ask someone else. They access resources they didn’t think to try before. You begin to realize…you were never meant to be the one-woman solution to every need. Think of No Week as your official debut of not being the first responder for every little everyday thing.
No Week hint #2 Keep kinda quiet about your No Week. No big declarations. No social media countdowns, not calendar invites. (I made this mistake once, and a friend may or may not have said, “Wait, is this your No Week? I’ll ask you next week. Lesson learned. (Love you, friend. You know who you are. Thanks for being a guest on my blog.)
These days, my No Week isn’t always tied to the school calendar, but I do try to plan it during a busy season because saying no creates margin, and margin is how we hold our yeses with intention.
Here’s your invitation:
Try a No Week.
Or a No Day.
Or even one unapologetic No.
I’ll be cheering you on…louder if it’s your No Week! π
--Paige
P.S. I always love hearing from you. Feel free to hit reply and let me know how this landed for you. π
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