The Balancing Act: Running a Corporate Career and Still Making it to Soccer Practice

Some days I feel like I live in two worlds. One is filled with presentations, strategy meetings, and deadlines. The other is soccer practices, school projects, bedtime stories, and the beautiful chaos of raising two boys on my own.

At first, I thought balance meant giving both worlds equal time and energy. I imagined a perfect calendar where work ended neatly at five and I always had dinner ready before practice. The reality is messier. Balance isn’t symmetry. Balance is fluid. Some days the scale tips toward work, and other days it tips toward motherhood. What matters is learning to shift with it instead of breaking under the weight of perfection.

My calendar is my lifeline. Every meeting, every appointment, every practice goes in. Organization isn’t about being rigid, it’s about making sure I leave space for what matters most. That way when my boys look for me on the sidelines, I’m there. Not always polished, not always rested, but present.

Meditation and minimalism have been my secret weapons. Ten minutes of silence in the morning grounds me before the day unravels. Keeping my home and my schedule uncluttered helps me find peace in the noise. The less I have pulling at me, the more room I have for my boys.

There are days when the guilt creeps in, when work runs late, when I miss a school event, when I wonder if I’m giving enough. But I’ve realized that balance isn’t about being everywhere all the time. It’s about being fully where you are when you’re there. At work, I give my all. With my boys, I give my heart.

The truth is, they don’t need a perfect mom. They need a present one. They need to see me work hard, chase my goals, and still show up for them. That’s the real balancing act, showing them that you can build a career and a family without losing yourself in the process.

And maybe balance doesn’t mean standing still at all. Maybe it’s learning to move, to adapt, to pivot between roles with grace. Like a dance, not a struggle. Like a game, not a war.

Because at the end of the day, if I can run a meeting in heels and still make it to the soccer field with grass under my shoes, then I’m winning in both worlds.