Through Their Eyes: How My Teenagers Changed the Way I See Photography and Business

When my kids were little, they didn’t care much about my work. My camera was just that “thing” I always had in my hands — an extension of my face, really. But now that I have teenagers, something’s shifted. They’re old enough to notice the long hours and the late nights. They see the hustle. And they have questions.

“Why do you care so much about this?” they ask. And sometimes, when they’re feeling particularly bold: “Isn’t it just… pictures?”

It’s a fair question. But when you’re running a business — especially one built around something as personal as photography — you realize how much ownership matters. This isn’t just my job; it’s something I’ve poured my heart into. And having my teenagers watch that process has been humbling. They see the hard work, the planning, the mistakes, and the small victories. They see what it takes to build something from nothing.

And slowly, I see them taking that lesson into their own lives. Whether it’s in school, sports, or their first part-time jobs, they’re learning that showing up and giving your best — even when it’s hard, even when no one’s applauding — is where real ownership begins.

But beyond the business side of things, my kids have also changed how I see the photos themselves. When they were small, every picture felt like a milestone — a chubby-cheeked grin, a gap-toothed smile. But now? Now I see how fleeting it all is. Their faces are changing. Their voices are deeper. They’re standing eye-to-eye with me, and soon enough, they’ll be off chasing their own dreams.

So when I photograph families now, I feel it differently. I know these pictures aren’t just for today — they’re for ten, twenty years down the line when the house is quieter and those little feet aren’t running through the kitchen anymore. Photographs become proof that we were here, together — growing, changing, and loving each other through every messy, beautiful season.

In the end, my teenagers have taught me more than I ever expected — about ownership, hard work, and the irreplaceable value of holding on to a moment. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll look back at my work one day and understand why I cared so much. Because it was never just pictures. It was always love.