What My Son Has Taught Me About Slowing Down, Showing Up, and Getting Dirty
â Stars, Stripes, and Sticky Fingers Edition
Ah, the Fourth of July. A time for fireworks, freedom, and forgetting how many hot dogs you can reasonably eat before someone suggests a Tums sponsorship. While most folks are busy planning their red, white, and BBQ, I’m over here reflecting on something just as sparkly as the night sky on Independence Day: what my son has taught meâabout life, love, and the power of getting a little muddy in the name of childhood magic.
Let me tell you, motherhood is the most beautiful messy thing Iâve ever stepped in. And thatâs coming from a woman who owns chickens. đđââď¸
Slowing Down: Because Fireflies Donât Work on a Schedule
You know what kids donât care about? Your planner. You know what else they donât care about? That you had 47 things to do before bedtime. My son has this magical ability to stop time with a simple, âMom, look!ââand suddenly Iâm barefoot in the backyard, watching a snail cross the sidewalk like it’s a NASA launch.
Before him, everything was fast paced. Real estate deals, baking deadlines, even family dinnersâeverything had to be efficient. But heâs taught me that freedom is found in the slownessâin the messy popsicle drips, the mid-day giggle fits, and the evenings where the only plan is to lay on a blanket and count stars (or chickens, whichever comes first).
On the Fourth of July, the whole country slows down for a momentâto look up, to breathe, to remember. My son reminds me to live like that every day.
Showing Up: Even if You Smell Like Smoke and Watermelon
Showing up doesn’t mean being perfectly put together. Thank the Lord, or Iâd be disqualified daily. It means being fully presentâeven if your shirt is stained with ketchup and your hair smells like bonfire smoke.
Whether itâs playing catch, answering another âwhyâ question, or watching him ride his bike in circles for 34 minutes straightâitâs in those moments that Iâm reminded: our presence is the greatest gift we can give.
On the Fourth, we wave our flags, light our sparklers, and show up for our country. But our kids need us to show up like that every single dayâwith heart, with honor, and maybe a little bug spray.
Getting Dirty: Because Freedom is Found in the Mud Pies
Yâall. My son doesnât playâhe conquers. He digs, he splashes, he climbs, he explores. And yes, he tracks half the backyard into the house with him. But he has taught me something I never expected to learn with a laundry pile taller than the chicken coop: freedom lives in the dirt.
Because when we let go of perfectionâof the clean floors and Pinterest plansâwe get to see joy in its rawest form. We get to join in the messy baking, the puddle jumping, and the cookie-face-smeared hugs.
A Momâs Firework Finale
So hereâs to the little ones who remind us to slow down and smell the sparklers.
To the muddy feet that stomp through our clean floors but leave the biggest footprints on our hearts.
To the ketchup stains, the backyard adventures, and the moments that donât make the highlight reelâbut make our lives rich and real.
Hereâs to showing up, slowing down, and getting dirtyâin the name of love, liberty, and laughter.
And if you need me this weekend? Iâll be in the backyard, barefoot with a bowl of strawberries, chasing a little boy with a sparkler in one hand and a sâmore in the other.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of sticky happiness. â¨
Want more stories like this? Follow along at @ChickensCookiesClosings where real estate meets real lifeâfeathers, flour, and all. đđşđ¸