What a Decade of Creative Partnership Taught Us About Motherhood, Business, and Balance

This past week, we stood inside Tula Blue's new Island workshop at our soft opening — hugging, laughing, looking around at how far we've come.

Ten years ago, none of this existed.

There was no Tula workshop. No Tula team. No decade-long creative partnership.

There was just a DM.

In 2018, I reached out to Laurie because I loved her work and asked if she'd be open to shooting Tula Blue's Fall collection around my old Padre Island neighborhood.

She said yes.

We were both in the thick of early motherhood. Babies everywhere. Businesses just beginning to find their footing.

We weren't trying to build something long-term.

We were just saying yes to one shoot.

And then another. And another.

 

 

Building While Mothering

Between 2017 and 2019, life felt full in every possible way.

We were juggling our children and their schedules along with our "baby" businesses. I was growing Tula Blue and figuring out how to return to work after six years at home. She was building a photography business that could help sustain her growing family.

"Building" was the word she used to describe that season.

And it's right.

The building isn't clean. It's trial and error. It's trying something, stepping back, tweaking it, and rebuilding it so it actually fits your life.

We were constantly adjusting.

Schedules.

Workflow.

Home responsibilities.

Expectations of ourselves.

Motherhood is physical. Constant. Demanding.

Building a business while doing so is emotionally challenging. It all feels a little crazy. Maybe even slightly questionable.

Balance didn't feel graceful.

It felt like survival.

But there was something grounding about being around another working mother who wanted both — motherhood and a creative passion — and wasn't apologizing for that.

We weren't trying to "have it all."

We were trying to build something meaningful without losing ourselves in the process.

 

Creative Trust

When Laurie talks about that first shoot, she still lights up.

She said she was "SO stoked" when I messaged her. She was already wearing Tula Blue. Already aligned with the brand. At that point, she was doing mostly family photography, and this felt like the kind of creative opportunity she'd been hoping for.

What stands out to her now isn't just the shoot — it's how the collaboration felt.

She said she felt trusted creatively. Not just hired to execute, but invited to contribute.

That trust matters.

In a long-term creative partnership, trust is everything.

When she shot our first video, we had never produced one before. I remember watching her in action and thinking, this is what I've been trying to get across — and she just "said" it visually. And beautifully.

She describes trust as creating safety.

"When trust is present, you're not just executing a vision — you're contributing."

Over the years, that trust has deepened.

We've experimented.

We've pivoted.

We've grown.

She moved from family portraiture into real estate photography and drone work. She has built a creative community around photography in Corpus Christi. She learned something entirely new when she became a licensed drone pilot.

She says flying a drone shifted how she sees the world — literally. A higher vantage point. A wider perspective.

That feels symbolic.

Because that's what time does too.

 

 

Redefining Balance

Laurie has a balance scale tattoo on her forearm.

She told me she got it because balance was something she struggled with for a long time.

That made me smile.

Because "Tula" means balance in Sanskrit.

That's why I named the company Tula Blue in the first place. When I learned the meaning years ago, it stopped me. Balance. That's what I was constantly striving for — not just in jewelry, though design needs balance too — but in your everyday life, relationships, and in business, too.

Nothing's perfect.

Nothing's evenly distributed all the time.

And what we've both learned is that balance isn't a perfectly even scale.

It's constantly shifting.

When my boys were two, four, and six, and I was starting back up with the jewelry, balance meant squeezing work into nap windows.

It meant baby-swapping one day a week with a friend so I could have one full day to focus on Tula Blue. I'd take her baby the next day.

It meant exhaustion.

It meant pushing through because there was no other option. I often had a baby (or 3 in tow) — at events, walking into stores.

There were no extra minutes.

For her, balance meant structuring her life around race weekends and travel, and learning to build a business around family rather than the other way around.

Some seasons felt impossible.

Deadlines.

Newborns.

Mom guilt.

Everything colliding at once.

There's always a sacrifice somewhere.

But we've both learned something important:

Balance is a process, not a state.

Some days everything clicks.

Other days it doesn't.

Sometimes it's stepping back and looking at the bigger picture.

For her, that might literally mean going out and flying her drone.

For me, it meant learning to ask for help. Adjusting when my body shifted. Building something sustainable instead of just pushing harder.

Balance now feels less about survival.

More about sustainability.

 

 

Collaboration Over Competition

The strongest creative partnerships aren't about talent alone.

They're about shared values.

Mutual respect.

Wanting to see each other succeed.

When collaboration replaces competition, something shifts.

We create better work.

We think bigger.

We grow faster.

And we don't feel alone doing it.

Over the past decade, we've both evolved — as women entrepreneurs, as mothers, as creatives.

But the through-line has been the same:

Authenticity.

Connection.

Community.

We hope women reading this feel less alone.

We hope they feel encouraged to keep building — even if it's messy.

To find their people.

To trust that their path, however nonlinear, is meaningful.

 

 

What a Decade Teaches You

Ten years teach you that nothing is linear.

Kids grow.

Businesses evolve.

Creative identities shift.

If we could talk to the versions of ourselves from 2018, we'd probably say the same thing:

Trust the process.

Don't worry about doing it perfectly.

Keep showing up.

Because that's what long-term creative partnership really is.

Showing up.

Again and again.

 

 

For the Women in the Middle

If you're in the middle of building something — a business, a family, a version of yourself — here's what we know:

You don't need a dramatic origin story.

You don't need perfect balance.

You need alignment.

You need support.

You need the courage to adjust when something isn't working.

I know because I've been there. Squeezing work into nap windows. Showing up to markets with babies in tow. Rebuilding when things didn't fit anymore.

It's messy. And it's worth it.

In the spirit of International Women's Day, this isn't about having it all.

It's about building something meaningful — season by season — and surrounding yourself with women who want to see you win.

 

 

If you're in a season of building, mothering, growing, or becoming — choose pieces that move with you.

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