Parenting and architecture share surprising parallels, both based on care, creativity, and resilience. Just as architects put their energy into designing spaces, parents dedicate themselves to their children. Both roles demand a delicate balance of selflessness and strength, requiring us to adapt, learn, and grow with each step.
In nature, cheetah moms embody many of the qualities we admire in both parenting and architecture: they are resourceful, protective, and tireless in their pursuit of building a strong foundation for their young. Fun Fact: Cheetah moms are exceptional parents! They single-handedly raise their cubs, teaching them essential survival skills like hunting and navigating their environment.
This example from nature is about all the themes we'll talk about here - nurturing, building, and adapting, whether in the home, in the office, or on the savanna...
When I became a mom, my life changed in ways I never could have anticipated. The moment my daughter, Niika, entered the world, an innate, almost biological switch flipped inside my head and my heart. I would even argue that when I first found out I would even be a mom, the bio switch was on! Suddenly, my entire world was no longer about me—it was about somebody else, her! So my role and the role of others changed. Everything I did, every choice I made, the way I planned my life and viewed everything around me was filtered through this new lens. My priorities shifted to those of her well-being, growth, and happiness. This profound shift in perspective is one of the most transformative aspects of parenting and life in general.
As an architect, I’ve found surprising parallels between raising my daughter and my practice. Architecture, like parenting, demands immense creativity, patience, and selflessness. Both are deeply personal journeys that require nurturing ideas and people while maintaining a greater purpose of serving others. Let’s explore these connections through four themes: the deeply personal bond we have with our “babies,” the art of managing people, a life in service of others, and the lessons we learn along the way.
Projects Be Our Babies
In architecture, every design begins as a fragile idea. It’s deeply personal, a reflection of our identity, creativity, and effort. Much like a parent cherishing their child’s first steps, architects experience pride and joy in seeing a project come to life. Yet, the process isn’t without its struggles. Design involves countless iterations, late nights, and moments of doubt—similar to the sleepless nights and challenges of raising a newborn.
I remember working on a project in a studio class that felt like an extension of myself. It was a small community center, and I poured every ounce of my creativity and energy into it. When the design was critiqued by a client, it felt personal. The criticism was well intentioned and in looking back made total sense but it still felt off. It was hard to separate their feedback from my sense of identity. But over time I learned that architecture is actually a team sport, to take a step back, and to remember that a project—like a child—is shaped not just by its parents but also by the environment, community, and the “village” supporting it.
It takes a village! Architecture, like parenting, takes a village. For a building to stand, it relies on a network of collaborators: colleagues, contractors, consultants, and stakeholders. Similarly, raising a child involves the support of family, friends, and mentors. Whether it’s the contractor troubleshooting on-site or a grandparent offering care, both endeavors thrive on collective effort.
People Management as Parenting
Managing people, whether in the workplace or at home, requires emotional intelligence, patience, and a knack for conflict resolution. As an architect leading teams, I’ve often felt like a parent guiding children in the sandbox, teaching them to share tools and collaborate.
I recall a particularly emotional day at a firm I used to work at when a project manager came into the conference room crying over something another executive said. Her tears were a reminder that our work is personal (business IS personal!) and that managing a team often involves being a coach, mentor, friend and therapist. Just as a parent soothes a child’s hurt feelings or bruised knees, a leader and team member must create a safe space for their team to process emotions and move forward.
Conflict, too, is inevitable. Whether it’s children arguing over toys or teammates debating over design choices, the challenge is teaching everyone to work together harmoniously. I’ve mediated disputes between consultants with opposing visions and reconciled designers with diverging priorities. These moments demand a parenting mindset—listening, empathizing, and finding common ground.
A Life in Service of Others
Both parenting and architecture are acts of service. As parents, our lives shift to center on the needs and aspirations of our children. Similarly, architecture transcends individual vision to serve the broader community.
When designing spaces, we often start with our own creative ideas but must ultimately focus on the needs of the end users. Years ago, I started working on the Buckley School campus. In the beginning it was a theater where I initially envisioned bold, avant-garde design elements. However, as I engaged with school teachers and administrative personnel, it became clear that their needs were rooted in practicality and benefiting the students. Adjusting the design to prioritize functionality over my original vision wasn’t easy, but it was the right decision—just as a parent often puts aside personal preferences to support their child’s best interests.
Architecture, at its core, is about creating spaces that foster connection, safety, and joy—values mirrored in parenting. Whether designing a school that inspires learning or a home that nurtures a family, architects serve others, just as parents dedicate their lives to their children’s growth.
Parenting and Entrepreneurship
Parenting and entrepreneurship share an unexpected connection: both require courage, adaptability, and a willingness to reimagine your life. One of the biggest misconceptions is that parenting—especially with young children—limits your ability to pursue ambitious goals. Many believe that starting a business or earning an advanced degree is impossible while navigating diapers, daycare, and sleepless nights. But for me, parenting became the catalyst for one of the most transformative decisions of my career: starting my own firm.
When my daughter, Niika, was three, I was working as a project manager and project architect for another firm. I was responsible for running a high-profile project, juggling jobsite visits, technical development, and endless meetings. While I found the work fulfilling, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was constantly being pulled in too many directions. I was outsourcing so much of my daughter’s care—daycare drop-offs, pickups, babysitters—and spending hours in traffic. One day, it hit me: Why did I even have her if I wasn’t going to be present in her life?
That realization propelled me into entrepreneurship. Starting my own firm Plana Architects gave me the freedom to create a life that prioritized both my career and my role as a mother. While it hasn’t been without its challenges, entrepreneurship has allowed me to reclaim time and presence for my family, proving that parenthood doesn’t have to limit your dreams—it can fuel them.
Parenting the Parent: Avoiding Burnout
Parenting demands a unique kind of selflessness, but it also requires self-compassion. Just as we pour ourselves into the well-being of our children, we must also recognize the importance of caring for ourselves. If I am constantly exhausted as a mom, I am ultimately doing a disservice to my daughter. As much as parenting requires sacrifice, it also asks us to be mindful of our own needs. By taking care of ourselves, we ensure that we can be the best version of ourselves—not just as parents but in all aspects of life.
This care for ourselves extends beyond simple logic; it is also rooted in biology. Research shows that a mother’s cells remain in her child, and a child’s cells stay in the mother, strengthening her heart. When we nurture our own strength and resilience, we are creating a greater sense of security for our offspring, even at a cellular level.
This lesson translates seamlessly into architecture. Architecture, like parenting, demands resilience—weathering economic shifts, navigating the ever-changing needs of clients, and overcoming countless obstacles to bring a vision to life. It is a profession that calls for endurance, adaptability, and a deep well of energy and inspiration. If we don’t practice self-care and self-compassion, we risk burnout, which ultimately compromises our ability to create, lead, and serve.
Taking the time to recharge—whether through rest, reflection, or creative pursuits—is not indulgent; it’s essential. For architects and parents alike, caring for ourselves is an investment in those we care for. When we are strong, steady, and fulfilled, we offer a sense of security and inspiration to those around us, whether they are children or clients. This balance between giving and replenishing ensures that we can continue to thrive and grow in both parenting and architecture.
The Lessons We Learn Along the Way
Perhaps the most profound connection between parenting and architecture is the constant learning and unexpected discoveries they bring. Children have an uncanny way of offering new perspectives on life. I’ll never forget when Niika, at just six or seven years old, asked me, “Hey Mommy, do you know why we’re best friends?” I said, “No, tell me why.” Her response left me speechless: “Because we were never strangers.”
That simple yet profound statement stayed with me. It reminded me of the depth of our connection and how children often see the world with a clarity and wisdom we sometimes lose as adults. Similarly, architecture constantly surprises and teaches us.
I remember watching the first performance at a theater I helped design—the Addams Family musical. As I sat in the audience, I marveled at the joy on the faces of the children and their parents, brought together through art and architecture. The experience went beyond what I had imagined during the design process. It wasn’t just about acoustics or aesthetics anymore; it was about the humanity of the moment—the laughter, the togetherness, the shared experience of joy.
Both parenting and architecture teach us to embrace the unexpected. They remind us that our creations, whether children or buildings, will grow in ways we could never anticipate, enriching our lives with their surprises.
Soooo, it suffices to say that parenting and architecture share more than one common thread: both are creative acts rooted in care and purpose and so much more. They demand our full selves, challenge us to grow, and reward us with profound moments of connection and learning. Our projects, like our children, carry a piece of us into the world. They remind us that life is about more than individual achievement—it’s about nurturing, serving, and discovering the beauty of what we build together.
