No Orphans to Ambition
Back in 2012 when my first (and only) book was published, a friend reacted by exclaiming, “You wrote a book?!?” and then added, “oh yeah…you don’t have kids.”
I was put off by that statement. I played it cool, but my unspoken reaction was, “Since when is having kids or not the difference between one’s ability to write a book?” I was proud of my accomplishment, and his reaction seemed to communicate that anyone could do such a thing if they didn’t have other priorities.
Thirteen years and two children later, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to reflect upon that moment. I’ve come to a surprising conclusion: he was kind of right.
My first child was perhaps ten minutes old before I began learning that my time would never be spent or managed the same way again. I was in the delivery room holding her while my phone vibrated in my pocket because work emails were coming in. Normally, I’d have responded right away. Not anymore. The constraints of parenthood are real and immediate and it takes some time to get used to the pinch. But they’re also transformative in unexpected ways.
These days, my measure of how I spend my time comes down to a single idea: I will not make my children orphans to my ambition. If I prioritize anything over them, I require a very good reason which cannot benefit me alone.
Yet this transformation runs deeper than simply having less time day to day. Entering your forties has a profound effect on your perception of your entire lifespan. Suddenly, you find that memories actual decades old are of things you experienced as an adult. The combination of parenthood and midlife can create a powerful perspective shift that makes you more intentional about what truly matters.
There are times when I feel that I am able to do less than I did in the past, but what I’ve come to realize is that I am actually doing more of the things that matter to me. A more acute focus on limited time results in using that time much more intentionally. I’m more productive today than I was in 2012, but it’s not because of time, it’s because of choices.
The constraints of parenthood haven’t just changed what I choose to do with my time, but what I create as well. Having less time to waste means I levy a more critical judgment of whether something is working or worthwhile to pursue much earlier in the process than I did before. In the past – if I’m dreadfully honest — I took pride in being the guy who started early and stayed late. Today, I take pride in producing the best thing I can. The less time that takes, the better.
But parenthood has also reminded me of the pleasures and benefits of creativity purely as a means of thinking aloud, learning, exploring, and play.
There’s a beautiful tension in this evolution - becoming both more critically discerning and more playfully exploratory at the same time. My children have inadvertently become my teachers, reconnecting me with the foundational joy of making without judgment or expectation.
This integration of play and discernment has enriched my professional work. My creative output is far more diverse than it was before. The playful exploration I engage in with my children has opened new pathways in my professional thinking, allowing me to approach design problems from fresh perspectives.
I’ve found that the best creative work feels effortless to viewers when the creation process itself was enjoyable. This enjoyment manifests for creators as what psychologists call a “flow state” - that immersive experience where time seems to vanish and work feels natural and intuitive. The more I embrace playful exploration with ideas, techniques, and tools, the more easily I can access this flow state in my professional work.
My friend’s comment, while perhaps a bit lacking in tact, touched on a reality about the economics of attention and time. The book I wrote wasn’t just the product of writing skills - it was also the product of having the temporal and mental space to create it. (I’m not sure I’ll have that again, and if I do, I’m not sure a book is what I’ll choose to use it for.)
What I didn’t understand then was that parenthood wouldn’t end my creative life, but transform it into something richer, more focused, and ultimately more meaningful. The constraints haven’t diminished my creativity but refined it.
Written by Christopher Butler on
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