I was standing in the kitchen at 6:47am, packing three lunches, responding to emails on my phone, and mentally rehearsing the presentation I had to give at 9.
My daughter asked me something. I have no idea what. I just nodded and kept moving.
For years, this was my version of “balance.”
Spoiler: it wasn’t working.
I used to think balance meant everything got equal time. Equal energy. Equal attention. Like if I could just divide my days perfectly enough, wake up earlier, schedule smarter, color-code harder, everyone would be happy and I wouldn’t feel like I was failing everywhere.
But real life doesn’t work in equal parts.
Some weeks, work needed more of me. Other times, family did. And sometimes, rarely, I did.
Trying to measure balance in “days” left me constantly feeling like I was falling short, everywhere.
Eventually, I stopped trying to make everything even.
And I started asking a better question:
What actually fits this chapter of my life?
That’s when everything got lighter.
What Fit Looked Like Then
When my kids were younger, Greg and I started a ritual:
Every Friday morning, after school drop-off, we’d go to this little diner on the corner. The kind with cracked vinyl booths and coffee that tasted like it had been sitting since 5am.
We’d order eggs. Talk about nothing important. Sometimes we’d just sit there in silence, reading the paper, not rushing anywhere.
No babysitter meter running. No emails piling up. Just us, and an hour that was ours.
Those mornings were never about “balance.”
They were about fit.
They worked for us, for that moment in time.
We used a shared calendar to coordinate work and personal commitments. When things conflicted, we reached out to our village — friends, family, babysitters — to help.
And we stopped trying to be everywhere at once.
Instead, I’d ask each of my kids to pick the school events they cared most about, and I made sure to show up for those.
They didn’t get disappointed when I couldn’t make everything.
And I didn’t carry guilt.
Because I was there when it mattered.
At work, I blocked early evenings for dinner and homework. And since I worked with a west coast-based team, I could take later meetings after family time was protected.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it fit the life we were living.
What Fit Looks Like Now
Life looks different now.
Greg and I are both building new chapters in our work. Our kids are adults — they call us when they want to, not because they need us to remind them about something. And we’re spending more time with our mothers, which feels even more precious after losing both our fathers in 2021.
Some days, the quiet feels like relief. Other days, it feels a little too quiet. Like I’m still learning how to be in a life that doesn’t need me to manage it constantly.
Work-life fit in this season is quieter in some ways and deeper in others.
It’s about being present for the people we love, creating space for meaningful work, and honoring what matters now, not what used to.
What I’ve Learned
This chapter is full in different ways than the last one. There are still big questions. Still people who need me. Still work that matters.
But I’m not trying to do it all perfectly anymore.
I’m not even trying to do it all.
Here’s what I know now:
You can have it all.
But you can’t do it all, not at the same time, and definitely not alone.
Work-life fit gives you permission to define success your way and adjust when life shifts.
What I Want You to Know
You don’t need to win at perfect.
You need rhythms that support what matters most.
That might mean saying no to one more volunteer request so you can say yes to calling your mom. It might mean letting the dishes wait. Taking a morning walk just to feel the sun on your face and call a friend. Choosing rest when your body is begging for it.
That’s not failure.
That’s freedom.
I’m writing more about navigating these shifts, the seasons of life that ask us to redefine what success looks like. If these reflections resonate, I’d love to have you along for the journey.