Kids Watching Me Work

The Things Our Kids Are Really Learning

I used to think that by working, I was teaching my kids about business. About the bottom line. About the hustle and the hard thought that goes into building something.

But they don't see any of that. I mean, revenues? Detailed expense reports? Social media stats? Naw, not right now. But they see something else entirely.

They see me get knocked down. They watch how I get back up. They witness resilience—not as a concept, but as a living, breathing thing that shifts shape. Sometimes it's me grabbing the problem by the horns and wrestling it to the ground. Sometimes it's me being patient, letting the dust settle to see what's left. And sometimes, it's just me rolling with the punches because that's the only way through.

That’s the curriculum I didn’t know I was teaching.

"I Want You to Work Less, Mom."

A couple of years ago, I finally asked them the question I already know the answer to. They kept asking—Can you come to my International Day? Can we go to the beach?—and I kept having to say no. My work was booked months in advance, a calendar built on unknowns. School events would pop up, and I’d already be spoken for.

So I looked at them and said, "Do you want me to work less?"

Without missing a beat, they said, “Of course. We want to see you more.”

They missed the small stuff. The after-school 7-Eleven runs. The dim sum snacks. That little pocket of the day that was just ours.

It gutted me. So I made a promise. I told them, “Yes, I’ll carve out time that is just for you.” But I was also honest. I told them there would still be days I couldn't be there. And you know what they said?

“It’s okay, Mom. We understand. We can just tell you about it after.”

Our kids’ hearts are so much bigger than we give them credit for. The grace they offer us when we can’t show up, when we stumble, when we fall short of the “perfect” parent we’re trying so hard to be—it’s staggering.

And here’s the part that makes me so proud I could burst: they are becoming so secure, so capable, so sure of themselves—not because I’m present for every single moment, but because of who they are. I know how safe they feel. I know how strong they are.

When the Office is a Shoot Location

Sometimes, I bring them along to my outdoor shoots if I know my client family well. They’ll tag along, and something magical happens. The younger kids light up when they see my two. Amara will help a toddler take their first wobbly steps. Nicky will grab my gear without being asked. They become part of the village.

They watch me work. They see how I play with the children, how I talk to the grownups. I don’t sit them down and give them a lecture on customer service or kindness. I don’t have to. They’re watching how I treat my clients—with gentleness, with respect, with my whole heart. And they are learning that this is how you treat people.

Now, when you ask Amara what she wants to be when she grows up, she says, “I want to be a photographer like you, Mommy.” And I just hold her and soak in the sweetness of that moment.

They want to borrow my camera so much that I finally got them their own. A little digital one. A Kodak film camera. Just something for them to play with, to see the world through their own lens. And I love watching them fall in love with the seeing.

What I Hope They're Taking With Them

I grew up watching my mom love her work. She’s 72 and still going. That was my first and most profound lesson in what it means to do meaningful work. And now, I see my kids watching me.

I see it in the way they tackle their school projects—with intention, not half-measures. I see it in their creativity. I see it in how they talk to people. They know how to be serious when the moment calls for it, and we’re working on knowing when to let that seriousness go.

More than anything, I want to inspire in them a healthy work ethic. I want them to know that they can forge their own path. It doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. They can build a life that is fully their own and make their dreams real.

I love that they see that in me. And I love that, in watching me, they are learning to see it in themselves.