How I Balance Work And Family Life Every Day

There was a wrinkled drawing pinned crookedly to the fridge—scribbled in orange and blue, with my name spelled as “Anta.” My daughter had drawn it during one of those mornings when I was too rushed to sit with her for breakfast. In the picture, I had three arms. One held a laptop, one held a wooden spoon, and the third clutched her tiny hand. She thought I could do it all.

I stood there in my flour-dusted apron, laptop still humming on the kitchen island, and just stared at it. That silly drawing—so sweet and honest—hit me harder than any planner or productivity quote ever could. My throat tightened. I realized I didn’t want to be the mom with three arms. I just wanted to be present with the two I had.

That morning, I chose a slower breakfast. We sliced strawberries together, her little fingers squishing them clumsily into her bowl. My son, still in his Batman pajamas, danced around the kitchen. The sun streamed through the window, and I suddenly felt… capable. Not perfect. Not superhuman. But capable in the most human way.

Since then, balance has looked different for me. It’s not about doing everything—it’s about choosing what matters most in the moment. It’s not always graceful, and I still burn toast. But I’ve found rhythms that help me honor both my work and my family—without losing the joy in either.

What Balance Really Looks Like (Hint: It’s Not 50/50)

Balance is often misunderstood. People picture a scale, even sides, perfectly measured hours. But my balance looks more like a patchwork quilt—some days stitched with chaos, some with peace.

Here’s what my daily blend tends to look like:

• Teaching part-time at the local school in the mornings.
• Cooking and testing recipes for The Cooking Joy by midday.
• Family time in the afternoons—homework, park visits, messy baking projects.
• Blog writing and emails once the kids are asleep (with chamomile tea in hand and a candle flickering nearby).

I never aim for perfection anymore. I aim for presence.

Morning Anchors: Where My Day Finds Its Start

The way I begin my day sets the tone. I’ve learned that balance starts before the house wakes up.

My Morning Routine:

• 5:30 AM: I rise, quietly—no scrolling, no noise.
• Stretching in the hallway with a deep breath. Not yoga, just movement.
• Boiling water for herbal tea—chamomile or lemon balm.
• Jotting down three things I’m grateful for in my small journal. Sometimes it’s just “clean socks.”
• Planning the day: Not every hour, but three priorities. Only three. That’s enough.

Tip: Don’t over-plan. Leave room for surprises—spilled juice, forgotten permission slips, and giggles you didn’t see coming.

Batch Cooking: My Best Friend on Busy Days

Cooking for work and family doesn’t have to be two separate things. I’ve blended the two in a way that saves me time and fills our bellies.

My Go-To Weekly Staples:

• Chicken Rice Soup: Hearty, nourishing, and reheats like a dream.
• Chopped veggies stored in glass containers for stir-fries and snacks.
• Homemade granola in a big jar—easy for breakfast or yogurt toppers.
• Freezer-friendly muffins made with the kids on Sundays (banana-choco-chip is their favorite).

These basics let me experiment with recipes for the blog and still keep dinner on the table by 6:30.

Tip: Always cook a little extra. Future-you will thank present-you when dance practice runs late.

Micro-Moments of Joy: The Glue That Holds It Together

Not every day is smooth. Sometimes the school call interrupts a shoot. Sometimes a burned pan smells like defeat. But I try to notice joy when it quietly arrives.

My son telling me my cinnamon rolls “taste like hugs.” A kind email from a reader who tried my turmeric rice and felt closer to her grandmother. The way flour sticks to my daughter’s eyelashes while we bake.

Technology Boundaries (That Actually Work for Us)

As someone who blogs for a living, it’s easy to be always online. I had to create rules that feel kind, not rigid.

Our Family Tech Rules:

• No phones at the dinner table—even mine.
• Airplane mode after 8:00 PM, unless I’m on a late-night deadline.
• One family day each weekend with no screens (board games, baking challenges, silly walks at the lake).

Shared Responsibility: No One Does It Alone

I used to think I had to do it all. I don’t anymore.

My husband, Jacob, folds laundry while humming old rock songs. He makes a solid veggie lasagna too. The kids set the table (after a few “fork fights”), and I’ve learned to ask for help—even if it means the towels are folded the “wrong” way.

What Helps Me Delegate:

• Meal charts on the fridge (who sets the table, who picks the vegetable).
• Rotating chore cards: Color-coded and kid-approved.
• Grace: I stopped fixing things that were “done differently.”

Moments of Reset: Finding My Center in the Chaos

Some afternoons feel like a blur of backpacks, blog drafts, and yogurt spills. When I feel unsteady, I do one of these:

• Step outside barefoot into the garden and take three long breaths.
• Reheat leftovers and eat them without multitasking.
• Put on music (Ella Fitzgerald or instrumental piano) and clean the counter slowly.
• Call my sister for five minutes just to laugh about nothing.

The Real Measure of Success

At the end of a long day, when the house is quiet and my feet are sore, I ask myself this:

• Did I nourish someone—through food, words, or presence?
• Did I take one step closer to my goals, even a small one?
• Did I laugh—really laugh—at least once?

If the answer to any of those is yes, I rest easy.

Final Thoughts: The Joy Is in the Juggle

I don’t have a secret formula. Some weeks feel heavy, some are light. But what I do have is a heart that’s learning, slowly, to stretch without breaking. To work with love. To parent with grace. And to cook with soul.

You’re not alone in the juggle. If you’ve ever felt torn between your dreams and your dishes, your inbox and your hugs—know this: You are doing beautifully. Your way matters.

Keep finding the pockets of joy. Keep stirring the pot—even when it boils over. Keep showing up for the ones who need you, including yourself.

Thank you for sitting at my kitchen table today. I’d love to hear how you balance your days. Share your stories in the comments!