The Tech Parent's Dilemma
My son asked me today why I’m always on my computer. Fair question from a seven-year-old who doesn’t understand why Dad’s work doesn’t end when he leaves the office—mostly because I don’t leave the office anymore.
The Remote Work Promise
Remember when remote work was sold as giving us more time with family? More flexibility? Better work-life balance?
For some, maybe. For me, it blurred every boundary that existed.
The Reality
Morning: Quick standup while making breakfast. Andriel is telling me about trains. I’m nodding but watching Slack.
Afternoon: “Dad, can you play?” “After this meeting, bud.” The meeting runs long. There’s another meeting after.
Evening: Dinner as a family. My phone buzzes. Production issue. “I need to check this real quick.” Twenty minutes later, I’m still checking.
Night: Kids are asleep. I’m catching up on the work I missed during the day because I was… supposedly present with my kids?
I’m neither fully at work nor fully present with my family. I’m in this weird limbo where I’m failing at both.
The Tech Industry Problem
Tech culture glorifies the always-on mentality. Async communication across time zones. Global teams. “Flexible hours” that really mean “work whenever, but also work all the time.”
I’ve seen LinkedIn posts celebrating people responding to emails at 11 PM or taking calls during vacation. We’ve gamified productivity to the point where rest feels like failure.
And then we wonder why burnout is epidemic.
What I’m Trying (Poorly)
Hard boundaries. Phone goes in a drawer during dinner. Computer shuts down at 6 PM. No Slack after 8 PM.
Do I follow this perfectly? No. But I’m trying.
Calendar blocking. I block “school pickup” and “family time” on my calendar like they’re client meetings. Because they are meetings. With the people who actually matter.
Saying no. This is hard. There’s always another project, another opportunity, another thing that seems important in the moment.
Being honest. With my kids: “Daddy’s work is taking too much time right now. I’m working on that.” With clients: “I’m not available for calls after 6 PM.” With myself: “You’re not going to solve this tonight. Let it wait.”
The Andriel Effect
Having a son with autism has forced me to be more present. He needs routine. He needs predictability. He needs me there—actually there, not physically present but mentally in a meeting.
He’s taught me that my presence is the gift, not my productivity.
The Guilt
The guilt is constant.
When I’m working: I should be with my kids. When I’m with my kids: I should be working.
This is unsustainable. Something has to give.
What I’m Learning
Your kids won’t remember your code. They’ll remember if you showed up to their school events, if you played with them, if you listened.
Your career will wait. The urgent email can usually wait an hour. The production issue that can’t? Those are rare.
Boundaries are selfish AND necessary. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish. Protecting time with family isn’t selfish. It’s essential.
No one on their deathbed wishes they’d worked more. I know this is cliché, but it’s cliché because it’s true.
What I’m Committing To
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True presence. When I’m with my kids, I’m with my kids. Phone away, computer closed.
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End-of-day shutdown ritual. Close laptop, write tomorrow’s priorities, walk away.
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Weekend protection. Unless something is actually on fire, work stays closed on weekends.
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Regular check-ins. With my wife: “Am I disappearing into work again?” With my kids: “Am I spending enough time with you?”
Will I be perfect? No. But I need to be better than I’ve been.
To My Fellow Tech Parents
If you’re reading this and feeling called out—good. Me too.
We chose careers in technology because we’re problem-solvers. But somehow we’ve failed to solve the most important problem: being present for the people we love.
The work will always be there. Our kids won’t.
Act accordingly.