I first met Greg in San Diego through mutual friends when I was at SDSU and he was in the Marines. We didn’t really start hanging out until he moved to New York to finish undergrad at Columbia in 2014. He was studying to become a software engineer, always pitching me some new app he wanted to build—usually after eight or so tequila shots. I could tell he was driven and knowing he’d served ten years in the Marines after high school, I got the sense he was trying to make up for lost time.

Years passed but we reconnected when we both had kids around the same time. We’d commiserate about the huge identity shift we were both going through and reminisce on old times. These conversations definitely planted the seed in my brain for this Substack. He was one of the first Dads that made me feel seen when I would complain about how hard it was. Most people made me feel selfish or ungrateful—that I should only be filled with joy. When he said the first three months with his daughter Cora were harder than ten years in the Marines, I never felt so validated!

Here is one of our later conversations. This one goes deep, and I’m glad Greg trusted me with it.

Content warning: Greg talks openly about mental health and suicide.

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How would you describe yourself before becoming a parent?

I partied hard. Weekends with the boys, drinking a lot, no planning ahead. Just a text saying “what are you doing,” and an hour later we're all out.

People also knew me as a workaholic. I’d work all night, weekends, coding non-stop, and still find time to go out. I was ambitious, always trying to climb the corporate ladder, convinced I was going to be the next big entrepreneur. Work hard, party even harder. That’s who I was before becoming a dad.

Why do you think partying was such a big part of your identity?

The social side of it. Being with my friends is important to me. I'm an emotional guy, so after a few drinks I'd get sentimental and feel free to express myself. It was my release. I just liked being around people, being carefree, not thinking about everything else going on in life.

I’m slowly starting to tell people but I quit drinking. I’m almost one year sober now, and it wasn’t entirely my choice. I’ve struggled with mental health issues since getting out of the military, and I realized drinking was masking a lot of it. I’d normalized the heavy drinking and kept a lot to myself instead of talking about it. It compounded over time. During Labor Day weekend 2025, I ended up in the hospital.

One night that weekend I was drunk out of my mind, blacked out, and I had suicidal thoughts. Chrysteen (Greg’s wife) had to call 911 and I ended up admitted to the mental health unit at the VA for three days. That was my wakeup call. Maybe this wasn’t normal, maybe this was too much. I’m not saying I’m cutting out alcohol forever, but I have a different relationship with it now. One year sober, no fixed end date, just month by month. I’m doing it for Cora, and for myself.

Thank you for sharing that. I'm glad you got the help you needed.

Not going to lie, there are still moments I think, man, I wish I could be out partying. It takes a lot of willpower not to go out and drink again, but I also genuinely enjoy being home now. It’s not FOMO, it’s more just missing those moments in time.

I don’t want to make it sound like I’m depressed at home. It’s made me a lot more intentional with my time. Family comes first, but when Cora's with her grandparents, I get extra time at night to work on personal projects without sacrificing family time. Not going out and being hungover the next day has opened up time I would have wasted before.

Usually people have less time after kids, not more.

That first year was a real struggle. The late nights with the baby crying. All the social stuff got put on pause which was my whole identity on weekends. As much as I love Cora, in those moments I’d think, “I wish I were somewhere else right now.” I hope that doesn’t make me sound terrible, but that’s honestly what went through my head.

That’s exactly what Independent Play is all about. People don’t say that out loud because it makes them sound selfish. But who actually enjoys a baby screaming in your ear at 3am? Did the Marines prepare you for those sleepless nights?

The Marines made me think fatherhood would be a cakewalk — the sleep deprivation, the discipline, I figured I was already trained for it. I was so wrong. The military runs on structure; you're told what to do and when to do it. Then you do it without having to think. Raising a kid, especially in the first few months, has none of that. Their schedule is unpredictable, every kid is different, and no book or YouTube video really prepares you. You have no clue what you’re actually doing. So the lack of structure was the hardest part. The one thing that did carry over: in the Marines you're completely committed to keeping the people next to you alive. Here, it's the same — just one person, and you'd do anything for them.

Did the stress of becoming a parent contribute to you going to the hospital?

It contributed, one hundred percent. It was a different kind of stress on top of everything else. I wouldn't call it the trigger, but it sped things up. A new job, working on my master's degree, and I actually lost my previous job two days before Cora was born. It was a very stressful year.

Was there anything specific you were scared of losing when you became a parent?

My drive, my ambition. The late-night coding sessions where I’d really get in the zone. I was proud of that work, and the recognition pushed me to keep going. I felt like I had so much left to accomplish. I did ten years in the Marines, then started undergrad at 28 in NY, graduated around 31, which is much later than most people in Tech. I felt like I was just getting started in my mid-thirties. So when Cora came along, I thought, is this it for me? Am I done? I could still do good work, but not great work, and I definitely wouldn’t have time for my side projects.

Chrysteen had to tell me directly: “once we have a kid, you’re going to have to give up a lot.” I knew she meant well. She was worried I’d stay exactly the way I was, that she’d be taking care of Cora by herself. That’s been the number one challenge for me.

But you’ve actually found more time. How is it different than before?

Before, I had zero structure, up until 4 a.m. coding. Now I have a real schedule. Cora goes down around 8:30, Chrysteen sleeps early too, so I have a window in the evening, roughly 9:30 to midnight. When I’m intentional about those few hours, I get a lot done. As you get older, you learn to get more done in less time. I’m also lucky that Chrysteen gives me the time to do what I need to do. It’s a balance of course.

Tell me about your side projects. What gives you joy right now?

I'm a software engineer so I love building things. I’ve been building a lot of different agents with AI to make my day to day easier. And there's Pophood, which I'm reviving.

Tell me more about Pophood.

It’s a website I’m building. A private space for dads to be completely honest with themselves. You log reflections in the moment, “why didn’t I just go to the zoo instead of pretending I had more work to do?” No feed, no replies, just you writing to yourself. Over time it surfaces patterns you wouldn’t catch on your own, so you can see how you’re performing as a dad and a partner. And eventually, when your kid is old enough, they get to see it too. Not just the memories, but the effort.

I’m also getting back into music. I love jazz, so for my 40th I bought myself a trumpet. I hadn't played since high school, but getting back into it has been pure joy. I found a group in San Diego called the Terrible Orchestra, musicians who haven’t played in years who just want to play again. They definitely sound terrible. [Laughs]

How important is it for parents to have an identity outside of being a parent?

Completely essential. You hear constantly that you have to give up everything and just be “the parent.” But if that’s all you do, you start to lose yourself. I went through that, especially the first few months. I became a grumpy person. I’m sure I wasn’t pleasant to be around.

You have to keep doing things you enjoy, because it carries into how you show up as a parent. You become better for your kid when you’re allowed to do things for yourself. Especially after everything that happened last year. If I can’t take care of myself, I can’t fully take care of her. That’s why I make time for things on the side. It’s for me, but ultimately it’s for her too.

A lot of people say they don’t have time for hobbies, but they have time to scroll Instagram for an hour. It’s not about having time, it’s about making it. I’m 40 now, and even though part of me thinks, man, I’m halfway done, I also feel like a kid again, because I’m living a lot of it through Cora. There are things I always wanted to do as a kid but couldn’t, and now I get to do them with her. Even if she won’t remember most of it, I see the joy on her face, and that makes it worth it.

I was scared I’d never get to this point. The beginning was genuinely hard, and I assumed it would stay that way. I learned that you have to be intentional and put in the effort to make it fun. The payoff comes back tenfold. I have everything I need to be happy, to stay sane, and to still be as ambitious as I ever was.

When would you say you got to “this point”?

Those three days in the hospital, away from Cora, were so hard. I never want to feel that again. Not being able to hold her, hear her cry, even change a diaper. And seeing who showed up: my best friend flew in from Seattle, my sister drove down from LA, my parents stayed for weeks. I think I had to go through everything that happened last year to really see what I have.

I still have rough days, everyone does, but now I know they’re temporary. I get to come home to Cora’s smile, her laugh. Even when she’s cranky, it doesn’t matter. I hold her, and she knows everything’s okay. That’s more than enough to live for.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you can reach the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988.

I first met Jensen around 2011 through friends who had all relocated to New York from the Bay Area around the same time. We lived out our twenties and early thirties with Peter Pan syndrome, navigating life in the city — staying out all night, falling asleep on trains, getting mugged in front of what would later become Barclays Center. We all went through the wringer together.

Ever since I’ve known Jensen he’s been a cyclist. I never saw it as a hobby for him, it was his identity. I remember him going on crazy long bike rides after a long night of drinking when I could barely get out of bed. It was insane.

He’s now back living in the Bay Area with his wife Maia and their two boys. Knowing how he’s always fully committed to the things he loves, I was curious to hear if fatherhood had changed things.

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How would you describe yourself before becoming a parent?

I was always down for anything, always doing things to the extreme. I’d work a 12-hour shift at the hospital, party all night, then ride my bike for 100 miles the next day. I was also in Grad School for a couple of those years which is crazy to think about. I broke my arm during my last semester and felt like it was the universe telling me to slow down. I took pride in my body’s ability to withstand all this abuse and still perform.

I also considered myself pretty artistic. My outlet was photography — I took tons of pictures every day. When they were alive, my grandparents didn’t like to leave the house, so I’d share all the beautiful and interesting things I saw. Now it’s with my boys. The other day I came across a large gopher snake on my bike ride and when I showed Luca, the expression on his face was priceless.

Have you had to tone your lifestyle down? Are you doing less, or just balancing differently?

Having kids made me realize I couldn’t keep it up. Frankie is very athletic, so I have to be able to run around and play with him. Luca is more into art — always curious, always asking questions. They notice when you’re not fully present. I realized that if I ride my bike for six hours I’m exhausted and I can’t fully be there for them.

I try to incorporate my hobbies into my life as a dad and as a husband. I got a cargo bike and a double running stroller so the boys can join me. But at the end of the day, I’d rather spend all my time with my family because bikes aren’t going anywhere, running isn’t going anywhere, photography isn’t going anywhere. Every single day, this is the youngest they’ll ever be and you can’t buy back time.

Every hour of my day is pretty regimented now. In the mornings I feed them breakfast, then I’ll either run them to school in the stroller or put them on the bike. I come home and walk the dog for a mile, and then I have an hour or two before work — I’ll go for a run or a ride. If things run smoothly, I have a little time left over to run errands, fix things around the house or tend to my plants. One major thing I’ve changed is I stopped scrolling on my phone, which gave me back 30–45 minutes. All these little things to maximize my time with my boys.

The limited amount of time I have now actually got me more into running. It’s easier to incorporate into our life. I’ve done 3 marathons since our second one was born — New York, Santa Rosa, and Los Angeles. Hoping to qualify for Boston someday.

What does biking give you? Why have you been doing it for so long?

Since I was little I’ve always had trouble sitting still. In church I’d be shaking my leg, in class I’d be fiddling with stuff. Cycling gave me an outlet to burn off all the energy. It’s also given me an outlet to express myself and a great community.

When I’m riding my bike, my head becomes quiet. It’s become second nature to me. When I’m shifting and flying through traffic on my bike, my brain just goes somewhere else. It’s where I think things through, solve problems, and come up with ideas.

I’ve also taken what I learned from cycling and applied it to my approach to life. There’s a nerdy term called marginal gains — 1% here, 1% there, it’s all about small efforts eventually adding up. I try to take the same approach with being a dad. Small improvements here and there in hopes of being better today than I was yesterday.

How do you coordinate your schedule with Maia?

I rarely write anything down but Maia has introduced me to a little thing called Google calendar. (Laughs)

You realize pretty quickly you can’t just be a dad, you also have to be a husband. Maia and I are good at being fair with each other. If she lets me go for a bike ride or run, I’ll ask her what she needs. Right now she’s training for a half marathon, so I’ve been coaching her and accompanying her on runs with the boys in the double stroller.

We’ve been together long enough that we know each other better than we know ourselves sometimes. I’d never admit I was tired, but she’ll look at me and say: you look tired, go lay down. She knows I don’t like to stop moving, so she’ll say, “Can you just stop?”

Was there anything you were scared about losing when you became a parent?

To be honest, not really. I look at fatherhood the same way I look at my hobbies — I want to be good at it. So when I became a dad, I took it seriously. It wasn’t that I was losing something, I was transitioning into someone new. I never want to look at Luca or Frankie with resentment because they took time away from my other interests.

Has anything surprised you about your identity since having kids?

I was surprised at how willing I was to give up the hobbies I love. But becoming a dad revealed a lot of things from my past. My grandma always told me I could be good at anything, and I think that’s where my confidence comes from.

My dad was my hero growing up. But as I got older, especially after becoming a dad myself, I realized he wasn’t the best father. His priorities were friends and partying. My grandpa was there to raise me. So now, every single day, my approach is: if something happens to me tomorrow, how will my boys remember me? Will they remember me as a good dad?

I grew up in the Philippines and it was amazing. I was always around family, it was the best childhood. But coming to America, my dad’s family treated us like shit. They made us feel small. My dad knew we were coming for six years and had nothing prepared for us. We lived with his sister who kicked us out after two weeks and ended up in a two-bedroom apartment in the hood, all four of us in one room, sharing the other with my dad’s friend just to cover rent. As a dad, I would never let that happen to my family. Looking back at my past, both good and bad, made me realize exactly what kind of dad I want to be. That happiness I had growing up in the Philippines — I want the same for my boys.

Alex and I work together at Wistia, where she's a senior designer. We didn't really get to know each other until we ended up sitting together on a bus during a work offsite in Denver last year. We chatted about our careers, living in NYC (and how much I missed it), and eventually parenthood. She told me about how her son was diagnosed with a medical condition very early on and everything it had put her family through — it really stuck with me. The next time we spoke, she told me about how she got into oil painting when her son was younger, and how it helped her get through those tough times. I knew I had to have her on. Here's our conversation.

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How would you describe yourself before becoming a parent?

It was always my goal to be sort of the cliche “New York Creative” — this really cool, fashionable person, full of ambition and afraid of nothing. But I’m actually afraid of everything. It always felt a little put on, because I’ve never been “cool” in my life and I’m never going to feel “cool,” because that’s just not who I am.

I did always identify with design, but never as an artist. I also identified primarily as a singer, but never as a musician. I was always a performer, always a creative, but never taking on the completely raw form of those things. It was something I was always very careful to differentiate because I didn’t feel like I had the right to express myself with those words. I felt more like an interpreter of those things instead of a true creator of them.

What happened to that version of yourself when you became a parent?

I had my son in July 2020, right in the middle of the pandemic, and he was sick pretty immediately after, when he stopped growing at the rate he was supposed to. First there were complications with his heart, then more medical issues just kept popping up. He has a rare genetic condition that I still don’t fully understand and he’s almost six! It was two years of constant medical stuff, where it always felt like we were waiting for the other shoe to drop. I fully disappeared into that journey and felt really isolated.

I also had a very demanding job the same time all of this was occurring. In my head, I was going to have a baby and be the same high-performing creative and get promoted and one day be a creative director. Well — I had a baby. And I was like, holy shit. I don’t even have a choice in this. My priority is this and that’s it. I didn’t know how to balance my child who had all these medical needs with work. And that’s not even addressing the financial element of it all.

A funny thing happened when I was breastfeeding him in the middle of the night. I’d always get served these videos of people oil painting and would just stop scrolling and watch the whole video at 2 a.m. with this child latched on, just being like, I think I can do this. It was a relief from everything I was feeling: there was so much pain, so much anxiety and terror sitting inside of me and I realized I can’t not express myself anymore. I needed to put beauty out into the world.

Eventually I got a job that gave me more flexibility and breathing room to come back to my creativity. I hadn’t had a chance to really process the priority shift as it was happening. I started to think about myself as a new person and then I got into painting from there.

Had you painted before?

I hated painting. I would experiment with it sometimes, watercolors mostly, and felt more comfortable with oil pastels. As a child I drew a lot — I drew horses, that was my thing. I was the little neurodivergent horse girl who pretended to ride horses at recess instead of playing soccer with everyone else. Then I went to college, expecting to go into design school, not art school, because I didn’t want to be an artist, I wanted to make cd album covers. But everyone else in design school was ALSO an incredible artist and I felt so shitty because everything I made was messy. I was at the bottom of the rung in all my foundation classes and then I lost all lingering identity as an artist in college.

When I first got into oil painting, the expectation was that I’m going to suck and it’s a mess and I’ve never done it before, so there’s no expectation and I’ll be fine. It was freeing instead of stressful. I was giving myself permission to fail. Permission to focus on this one thing with no expectation attached to it. My brain could just focus on this one thing and put all of my energy into just it and be fully present, which I spent so much of my time avoiding.

What happens to you when you paint?

There’s a lot going on in my head all the time. It’s very loud and I have a lot of trouble quieting it. Painting takes all of the things in my head and just pauses them, giving me space for peace. It is still an active process though. It’s always an exploration, always based in curiosity and searching. It’s the only place where I feel like I can play. I’m kind to myself during this learning process in a way I’ve never been kind to myself before.

I’ve been afraid of seeing my own brain sometimes. But painting makes me want to know what’s in there. When I’m trying to capture an object, I always try for the feeling of the thing — you can see a feeling. And it seems silly because it’s just a fruit — but there’s something alive in it that’s missing from the way we perceive these objects when they’re in front of us in our daily lives.

Most of my life is digital. It’s sort of made up, and it feels like it’s getting more fake by the day. But, when I’m painting, I’m looking at a real apple, putting that real apple on a canvas to create a real painting, even though the painting is a fake version of the apple. It’s a meta exploration. Having that reality to ground myself in reality makes me feel closer to the earth, and gives me something of a spiritual outlet.

How do you think painting affects you as a parent?

My son has a really big personality and also developmental delays. He wants to express himself so much but struggles with communicating his feelings. I always feel like I have to contextualize who he is to the world, explain him, and police him in a way that other kids probably don’t have to deal with. I’m always looking at him, waiting to react to something — and that’s not right. That’s how society has set me up to react to him, not how I should be letting him explore and figure things out on his own.

Having something that gives me space to fuck up on a canvas instead of at my kid — it makes me less judgmental and more flexible. Painting gives me patience and I feel more empathetic, more connected, and more open, especially when it comes to a non typical way of experiencing the world. When I’m facing my son in all of his big feelings, I can handle that a lot better. It gives me grace for him and for myself.

And then painting also gives me something that is solely mine. I can reclaim my brain.

How often are you doing it and how do you make the time?

I try to paint at least once a month. I make the time because if I don’t, I become a monster of dysregulation and anxiety. My husband is one of the most important elements in ensuring I can do it. I’m a very rigid personality — we need to have some kind of dinner already made, the dishes have to be done, things have to be a certain way for me to feel relaxed enough to free myself. He takes on primary parenting duties those evenings and ensures that I’m set up for success. And then he’s also really good at pinpointing when I’ve said “oh, I should paint tonight” as a throwaway comment and being like — you should paint tonight. Sometimes it’s a little light coercion, which is usually what I need. But whenever I do it, it’s always the right choice.

Cristina and I met at Warby Parker, where we were both on the Social Media team cranking out quirky videos about glasses (I promise I know people that didn’t work at Warby Parker). Since then, she left NYC for Barcelona, had a daughter who’s now 3, and has spent the last few years balancing raising her daughter with scaling her social media marketing agency Studio Nieto. Having recently wound down Studio Nieto, she is currently embracing the rare luxury of a “professional intermission”, focusing on motherhood as she figures out what’s next.

I’ve always vibed with Cristina about parenthood because we both had kids later in life and neither of us were sure we’d ever become parents. We also both admittedly were lost in the NYC “main character energy” sauce and are still figuring out who we are outside of that bubble. That made this conversation feel especially honest. Read our conversation below.

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How would you describe yourself before having your daughter?

This is not going to sound great — but very money hungry. I was very much driven by ambition and ego. I wanted to either make more money or move up in my career.

I’m sure I had some wonderful qualities, but when I look back, I cringe a little bit. I was very immature.

Being a parent just removes you. You are not the center anymore. I went from selfish to selfless. I didn’t know I could do it. And I actually feel very happy about it. It’s a full 180 — from me, me, me to you, you, you.

It sounds like becoming a parent made you more self-aware?

From 0 to 100. It’s like a slap in the face. I don’t think I even thought about my identity before having a kid. I don’t think I ever stopped to think, like, “Who is Cristina?”

It’s become this whole identity crisis. I still feel the loss of who I was before being a parent sometimes. That version of me who was defined by my output, I knew exactly how to measure my value.

When you read articles about other people it always starts with ‘so and so interior designer,’ ‘so and so creative director.’ But if I’m not interested in growing my career or being influential to the outside world, who am I? My ambition is just non-existent right now. By being open about my lack of professional ambition, I hope to validate that it’s okay to just be for a while. It’s a push and pull.

Do you think living in Europe changes how you think about any of this?

In the US — especially in our professional circles, when we were grinding away in New York — your identity is tied to this marketable asset. You view yourself almost like a brand. Always growing, always pivoting, always producing. In most of Europe, the culture acknowledges that first you’re a human being who exists in the world, not tied to what you produce.

In the US, parenting is seen as a setback. In Europe it’s almost like you’re doing the world good by having children. American mothers feel so much pressure to bounce back, not just physically but professionally. They have three, maybe five months max with their baby, and then they have to come back even stronger and prove they still got it. And it’s crazy because our brains are completely rewired.

For me, I’m trying to adopt more of a European mindset. Having the privilege to just play with my child or spend two hours playing with clay at my ceramics studio. That’s still a successful way to spend your time. I’m trying to move away from a culture of always doing something to a culture of just being.

I’m lucky enough to be able to make that choice, but the fact that it feels like a ‘choice’, and not just a given, shows how deeply ingrained the hustle culture is in my brain. I’m essentially trying to reprogram myself to be okay with not producing anything and still believe I’m an interesting person. I’m still cool. At least I think so.

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What were your rituals or hobbies that defined your identity before parenting? Have they changed?

The only thing that has changed is that I might not do them as much and it has to be more planned out. Traveling was a huge part of how I felt fulfilled. Learning about other cultures and seeing other parts of the world. Fashion, vintage furniture, design, good food — we still do all that. We’ve incorporated our daughter into the things that we actually, truly love.

There is grief, obviously. I’m caught between an immense love for my daughter and a heavy nostalgia for my old autonomy. I sometimes wish I could sit at a restaurant terrace, have a beer, and talk shit with my friends with nowhere to be.

If you can’t do those things as much anymore, have you found fulfillment in other places?”

I recently took up ceramics. I’ve been doing it for eight months now. My stuff is shit. It’s so ugly. I’ve always been such a type A person who never wasted my time. But taking up this hobby is teaching me to be okay with not being productive. That I don’t need to make everything a brand or part of my brand identity.

It’s meditative. I’m using my hands, I’m not thinking of anything else, I’m just getting dirty. The creating. The making stuff. Having an idea and literally thinking of it, doing it, and having it. It’s so fulfilling. It really scratches that itch of doing something for yourself.

It’s coming from a place of genuine love to make things from scratch. And that’s how I want to keep it. My daughter is not involved. My husband is not involved. No one is involved except me. I’m so glad I found that outlet. It is a bit of a cliché though, the stay at home mom doing ceramics. I laugh at myself.

I love that, and this is the whole point of Independent Play. What are parents doing just to do it, you know?

Yes, so I feel very lucky that I have the time to find that outlet because a lot of people don’t have the luxury. It definitely weighs on me. I’ve been working since I was 15 years old and now that I’ve stopped, I feel this pressure to be the ‘perfect’ present mother because I don’t have the excuse of a 9-to-5. But the reality is that the lack of professional ambition doesn’t automatically get replaced by domestic fulfillment. It gets replaced by a different kind of restlessness. So I just want to have this time, feel the shift, feel the loss of who I was, understand who I am now.

Do you think parents should have identities other than being a parent?

For sure. Oh my gosh. If you are comfortable with who you are and you do what you like outside of being a parent, you become a better parent. There’s just no doubt about that.

Parenthood takes over your life in such an intense way that carving out that time for yourself is like the most powerful thing you can do. I tell my husband — when you need time to do what you want to do, you tell me. And when I need time to decompress, I need time with no husband, no kid, no friends, nothing. 24 hours alone makes me a better human.

Every few months I book a hotel room by myself. I leave at 9am and I don’t come back until the next day. It’s glorious. It makes me a better mother. Just a joy to be around, honestly.

I definitely struggle with feeling guilty when I ask for time to myself. Do you feel the same? How do you cope with it?

This is when having friends that are in the same boat helps you so much. I send a voice note to my mom friends and I’m just like, guys, I’m doing this, I feel guilty. They’re like, you deserve this. Go relax. Go get a massage, go to the antique market, go do what you love to do without an agenda. It also helps that my partner is so supportive.

I’m a firm believer in putting yourself first and then the child, you know, like in an airplane, put your oxygen mask on first, then the child’s. Put yourself first, then you put your partner second, and then you put the child third.

I know It’s very taboo to talk about the hierarchy of care. It’s usually reversed — the child, the partner, and then you at the end. Everyone gets taken care of, and then it’s the cliché of the poor disheveled mom. That’s not the best version of you for your kid.

Everything that I do to find my identity and be happy as a person is so that I can be a better mother. It all comes down to being the best version of myself for her.

Mara is a creative director I’ve had the pleasure of working with since our days together at Warby Parker. She’s also a mom of one, with a second on the way. Both our spouses also worked at Warby Parker, so the four of us have been friends for over a decade. From the days of zero responsibilities, going out till 4am in NYC, to now somehow being parents? Crazy. We’re also the beneficiary of her son’s hand-me downs so our kid is always fitted. Mara is one of those people who’s good at almost everything, and if she isn’t yet, she’s learning how to be. I knew she was the right person to kick this off with because her curiosity and creativity haven’t skipped a beat since parenthood. She sews, dabbles in woodworking, makes her son’s Halloween costumes by hand, and documents all of it on TikTok.

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How would you describe your identity pre-parenthood?

I was always interested in design, arts, culture—even technology. I think I was always a curious person. Whenever something new came out, I liked having some sort of fluency in it just to know it.

And I’ve always been pretty independent. I’ve always been sure about what I liked versus what other people liked. If everyone was on board with something, I would be like, “I don’t know if I like that too.” I was very comfortable with my own interests.

I like learning about new things. Even if I don’t become a master of them, I like knowing how other people make things.

Have you had to shift parts of your identity in order to fit parenthood with your interests?

I feel like it’s channeled in a different place now. Before I would channel it through work, or through social situations. Before it was like “I’m going to learn animation because we’re going to animate a bunch of projects at work.” But now I learn because it’ll apply more to me personally or in my home life.

I learned about woodworking because it would be cool to make, or know how people make furniture, just so I can recognize what good craftsmanship looks like. By no means am I a carpenter now, but I know the language around it.

I’m also learning how to use a sewing machine again because maybe I’ll just start mending things for my family or making my own kids clothes, how hard could it be? And kids’ clothes are expensive!

How do you personally carve out the time to learn these new skills?

You definitely have to schedule it and be proactive about it. Doing it at night after my kid goes to sleep, or just saying to my husband, okay, you’re going to do dinner and bedtime because I’m going to this class.

It’s definitely challenging. I’ll sign up for a sewing class a month out to make sure I do it, which is the outer accountability. So that’ll make me have to purchase a sewing machine because I signed up for this class. I know my brain enough to know what’s going to hold me accountable.

I realized I have to get comfortable with claiming some time for myself. Because you’re no longer just an individual, you’re this unit now and you have to run everything by the unit and make sure the unit is okay. It’s not being unapologetic, but making sure it’s sprinkled in just to get your fill back in. Also making sure your partner is doing that too and that you’re doing things together. It’s such a tough balance.

Think about your mentality when you get back from that thing and how much of a better person you’ll be. It is beneficial for everyone because you’re still keeping in touch with yourself versus resentment building up over time. You have to kind of look at it like, “I’m going to feel much better that I did this for myself, and then I’m going to be a better partner and a better parent because of it.”

Has becoming a parent changed how you think about time?

There’s been things I have wanted to pursue or explore from decades ago. I kind of dabbled then dropped it. And then I think about how old I am now and that I have a kid and I’m like, imagine if I did that for 20 years before this? I would be a master, a pro.

And then I think about how much life hopefully we have ahead of us. And I think, okay, why don’t I use this time now? Because in ten years I’m not going to be all about my kids. They probably won’t want anything to do with me.

I might as well put in the time. I think having kids is beneficial because you realize how much time is going by. If I’m not using it for myself, I’m just going to wake up and they’re going to be in high school and I still won’t know how to sew. That would be kind of sad.

Do you think it’s important for parents to have something to lean on? Something to identify themselves by?

I think it’s important. I find a lot of comfort in that I can describe who my mom is or who my dad is by their obsession with this type of music, or my mom loves this movie, or my dad’s really into this hobby.

It’s really nice to anchor someone’s personality and identity around what you actively see them doing. So I guess, in a way, I’ve subconsciously tried to make sure I’m doing that for myself. It would be cool if my kids looked at me the same way.

Is there anything that you feel you’ve lost or that you were scared to lose after becoming a parent?

You have to be very selective because your availability and bandwidth have shrunk significantly. There’s definitely things that aren’t sustainable or I don’t need to do anymore.

I don’t see myself training for a marathon. Or we’re definitely not traveling as much and just booking flights spontaneously. My mind can’t even comprehend booking a last minute Europe trip.

Everything is more anchored around the home and family unit. You have to really go from this macro view of your life to this hyper-localized view. I quickly realized, I have to really love my home and my surrounding neighborhood because that’s where I’m going to be spending so much time.

A lot of times, there’s not much opportunity to escape even, being a train ride from New York City. My toddler has never been to the Museum of Natural History. That’s far for us right now. So I had to make sure I felt really fulfilled in this five mile radius. That took time to figure out because if you don’t get personal fulfillment from that, it could feel like you’re trapped.

You’ve talked about sewing, woodworking. But I know you’re also pretty active on TikTok. Can you talk a little bit about that?

I haven’t been doing it as much since becoming pregnant, but I try to do it every now and then. It is a creative outlet. I’m sure people get that a lot from social media. If you do something creative for work, it has a totally different process and you see the amount of approvals and meetings and briefs you have to go through to just make the thing and get it out there.

By the time it’s released, so many people have touched it and you don’t feel very close to it anymore. With TikTok, I can just make something and put it out there. No permission needed. It’s liberating.

I think if you put yourself out there, you’ll attract other people who are similar. So I think it’s cool to see this community of like-minded people who are doing the same things. I’ve never met them in real life, but we’re friends on TikTok, and it’s because we have the same lifestyle and interests right now. I was trying to fill a void of something I wasn’t really seeing in social media, which is how people are being creative as working parents, keeping their sense of style, and raising kids in a fun way.

Before my son was born, I was scared. Of course, I was scared of the sleepless nights and the unknowns of keeping a tiny human alive. But honestly, I was mostly scared of losing my identity—my hobbies, curiosities, and routines. That may be selfish, but it’s a big reason why it took me 40 years to have my first child.

He’s now 15 months old. And yet, the hardest struggle for me hasn’t been the sleep deprivation or the logistics of getting out of the house (although those things are very, very, very hard). It’s been the earth shattering identity shift. The loss of autonomy and freedom. The ability to skateboard, bike, bop around vintage stores, or grab a beer with a friend without checking the time, coordinating with my wife, or feeling guilty about any of it.

Over the last year or so, I realized there is no “going back.” I mourned (and maybe am still mourning?) the loss of the “old me.” We also moved to a new city and started new jobs around the time he was born which all added to the identity crisis. But I’ve been working hard to try and reestablish this new version of myself. I understand it takes time. I know I’m a dad. And I work every day to make sure I’m the best dad I can be. I love my son to death and can’t imagine life without him.

But how can I also remain me? And does wanting to do something just for me make me a bad parent?

I understand that having time to think about extracurricular activities in addition to parenting is a privilege. I’m very lucky that I have a partner who provides me the space and time to reflect on these feelings and pursue my side quests. Not every family has that luxury. But through conversations and of course social media (which isn’t always the full story), I recognized that parents were finding ways to do things for themselves and not going completely insane.

So I started thinking: what are those things? And how are they carving out the time? In between the sleep schedules and the diaper changes and the endless cycle of picking toys up off the floor, how do parents stay curious, creative, and connected to their sense of self?

This is what Independent Play is all about. It’s not parenting advice. I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s genuine curiosity. It’s an exploration.

How do we independently play? And what does it look like? Every other week, I'll be having a conversation with parents about just that.