How building woom, raising Luca and Sofia, and juggling two jobs taught me more about presence, priorities, and resilience than any business school ever could.

They say kids don’t listen — they watch.

And in those early years of building woom, Luca and Sofia watched everything: the late nights, the stress, the small wins, and the moments I almost gave up.

In 2014, I launched woom bikes USA out of a garage with a handful of bikes, a newborn on the way, and a whole lot of uncertainty.

Back then, life felt like a constant juggling act. I was working two jobs — a full-time business consultant by day, helping clients implement SAP systems, and a founder by night, building woom from scratch eight months before Sofia was born.

At the same time, I was trying to show up as a husband, raise a toddler, and protect time for doctor appointments, soccer games, dance recitals, and pool days — all while keeping our family afloat financially.

I thought I understood hard work before, but nothing prepared me for the pressure cooker that came next.

The Entrepreneurial Pressure Cooker

People often see the polished version of success: the Inc. 5000 awards, Entrepeneur of the Year, the headlines, the $25M in revenue, the CEO of a $100M Global business.

But behind the scenes, there were moments when I wasn’t sure we’d make it:

• Getting rejected by banks because we were “growing too fast.”
• Staring at a maxed-out credit card while the dishwasher sat broken for weeks.
• Running a business doing millions in revenue but struggling to pay personal bills.
• Fighting to keep the dream alive while my marriage unraveled, every late night used as proof that I cared more about the company than the family.

And then came one of the hardest early blows…

Three for Three

When the banks turned me down, one referred me to the Small Business Development Center, where I met a seasoned businessman named Dick Johnson. After I pitched my idea, he didn’t sugarcoat it:

He sent me home with one assignment: write a comprehensive business plan.

Around the same time, I reached out to my alma mater — the University of Alabama Manderson Graduate School of Business — and met with a few trusted former professors. One of them was David Lacek. I presented him with the concept, and he too expressed serious doubts:

• It was too expensive.
• The upcycling model wouldn’t work.
• People wouldn’t buy a kids’ bike online.

Hearing that from someone I respected and admired took the wind out of my sails.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I also heard skepticism from someone I deeply admired in the cycling world. At the time, I was racing competitively and looked up to a fellow cyclist named Robin T., an entrepreneur who’d founded a successful fitness app. On a ride through East Austin, I described woom and our upcycling model.

His response stopped me cold:

I was so rattled I almost crashed my bike.

Three conversations. Three people I respected. Three reasons to give up.

I drove home that day questioning everything.

But deep down, I knew something they didn’t: I believed in the mission. I knew parents wanted better bikes for their kids. I knew I could make this work. And that belief became the fuel that carried me through some of the darkest seasons.

The Dishwasher Story

By 2017, the doubts weren’t gone — but woom was growing fast.

Then the dishwasher broke.

No big deal, right? Except at the time, every cent we had was tied up in inventory or shipping. All my credit cards were maxed out. We had zero cash and all my credit cards were maxed out.

So… we couldn’t fix the dishwasher — for weeks.

I’d stand there late at night, washing dishes by hand. Sofia was in a carrier on my chest. Luca was running wild in full toddler mode. And I remember thinking:

How the hell am I going to make this work?

That season was hard. But it was also clarifying. It reminded me what truly mattered:

• My children
• My vision
• And the resilience to keep showing up — even when things felt impossible

What Entrepreneurship Really Teaches You

I used to think entrepreneurship was about strategy, systems, and scaling fast. But over the years, I’ve learned it’s actually about something deeper — lessons that came as much from parenting as they did from running a company.

1. Be Present, Even When It’s Hard

Luca and Sofia constantly pulled me back into the moment.

Soccer games. Dance recitals. Music performances. Doctor appointments. Playdates. Road trips. Pool days. Even simple afternoons at the playground.

Those are the things they’ll remember. But in the early years, I missed some of them — not because I wanted to, but because the business felt too urgent, the emails too loud, the problems too big.

I’ve learned the hard way that being present doesn’t happen by accident. Business will consume you if you let it — but life happens in the spaces you protect.

2. Simplicity Wins

Sofia sees the world in color. She doesn’t overcomplicate anything.

One day, while I was sketching out a complicated marketing plan for woom, she wandered into my office, picked up a marker, and started drawing bikes — bright, playful, full of life. She looked up and said, “Why don’t you just make them fun?”

She was right.

Time and again, her creativity reminded me: the best ideas are usually the simplest and most joyful.

3. Patience vs. Urgency

Luca has zero patience. He wants to act — now. At first, that drove me crazy.

I remember trying to explain why we couldn’t launch a new product until “the timing was right.” He looked at me and said, “Why don’t you just start?”

That hit me.

Because he was right. Progress doesn’t come from overanalyzing every detail or waiting for perfection. Progress comes from movement.

Luca taught me to trust my gut, make the decision, and course-correct along the way. That mindset shift helped woom grow faster and made me a better founder — and, honestly, a better dad.

4. Priorities Over Balance

I used to chase this idea of perfect balance — being an amazing parent, a present husband, and a successful founder all at once. But the truth? Balance doesn’t exist.

What I’ve learned instead is this: choose your moments.

When Luca had a championship soccer game, I left the office early and stood on the sidelines cheering. When Sofia had a dance recital, I turned my phone off and sat in the front row, fully there. When the kids wanted a road trip to the coast or just a lazy afternoon at the pool, I said yes — even when work was screaming for my attention.

Sometimes it meant logging back on at midnight. Sometimes it meant letting a fire at work burn a little longer than I was comfortable with. But those choices — showing up when it mattered most — are the ones I’ll never regret.

Passing It On

Now, I get to see entrepreneurship lighting Luca and Sofia up in their own ways — and honestly, it’s one of the most rewarding parts of this entire journey.

Luca recently launched his first business: car washing, side walk pressure washing and trash bin cleanings. He printed flyers, grabbed a bucket, and started knocking on doors — building his client base the old-fashioned way: one conversation at a time.

I stood there watching him one afternoon as he came back from a neighbor’s house, sweaty and smiling, holding a few crumpled bills in his hand. It took me straight back to the early days of woom — hustling, doubting myself, and doing whatever it took to keep moving forward. He made over $500 in 4 weeks and is committed to continuing to make as much money needed to buy his dream bike.

Sofia’s following her own creative path. She’s been making handmade cat masks, designing each one with care and a little flair only she could dream up. One day, she looked up at me and asked:

That question stopped me in my tracks.

Because I remember standing in the garage, holding the first woom samples, asking myself the exact same thing a decade ago:
​Will anyone believe in this? Will anyone care? Will anyone take the risk?

I knelt down, looked her in the eyes, and told her what I wish someone had told me back then:

"Yes. Someone will. Because you made them. Because they matter. Because confidence is where everything begins."

And that’s when it hit me: they’ve been watching all along.

The Bigger Insight

After a decade of building woom, here’s what I know for sure:

Entrepreneurship and parenting are parallel journeys.​
They’re both messy. Both meaningful. Both force you to grow in ways you don’t expect.

I didn’t just build woom for my kids.
I built it with them.

They were there for all of it — the wins, the stress, the late nights, the rejections, the broken dishwasher. They saw me chase dreams, take risks, and fail forward more times than I can count.

And now, I get to watch them build something of their own —
with creativity, with heart, and with belief in what’s possible.

What I Want Them to Remember

Years from now, when Luca and Sofia think back on these years, I don’t want them to remember how many bikes we sold or how fast woom grew.

I want them to remember:

• That I showed up to the soccer games, the dance recitals, and the pool days.
• That I made time for music performances and road trips, even when the emails piled up.
• That building something meaningful takes courage — and it’s okay to be scared while you do it.
• That success is never just about what you build, but who you become while building it.

Because one day, the business might change. The bikes might stop selling. The headlines will fade.

But the way we showed up for each other — that’s the legacy that lasts.

Closing Thought

We often talk about entrepreneurship like it’s about strategy, scale, and revenue.

But when I look back, the real story wasn’t in the spreadsheets or the headlines. It was in the quiet moments:

Washing dishes at midnight while a baby slept on my chest.
Cheering from the sidelines at Luca’s game.
Sitting in the front row at Sofia’s recital.
Saying yes to road trips, pool days, and playground afternoons — even when the business was on fire.

Because the truth is, the kids were always watching.

And maybe the greatest thing I’ve ever built isn’t woom at all.

It’s them.

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