They Smell Like Outside
On muddy feet, morning light, and what happens when we let our kids run a little wild
I love when my kids come to the door with muddy feet.
My city family looks at my feral children with a slight bit of disgust. I don’t let that bother me. It makes me smile — because I know my city kids are getting a piece of my small-town Western Kansas upbringing right there in the mud puddles of their own backyard.
There is something about growing up wild that I love. And more than that — something about being a mother in the wild.
The Weight We Carry as Mothers
There is so much pressure on us to curate the perfect little life for our families. Are our kids getting enough activities? Too many? Enough art, enough movement, healthy foods, the right amount of sweets? We are forever managing and measuring and scheduling. And I get it — routine and structure do matter. They help regulate our nervous systems. Kids genuinely thrive with predictability.
But here’s what I know for certain: there has to be room for the wild. There has to be room for muddy feet, mud pizzas, wading in the creek, and sitting in the woods with absolutely nowhere else to be.
That feeling — of having nowhere to go and no timeframe to do it in — is one of the most refreshing feelings left in this world. And I think it might also be one of the rarest.
The Dog Who Forced Our Hand
I have always loved the outdoors. Loved her, valued her, believed in her. But I’m also guilty of taking the easy way, especially with three little kids. When you have to wrestle everyone into hats, gloves, socks, boots, and coats, sometimes it just feels easier to stay in and do a puzzle.
And then Bandit came into the picture.
Our puppy didn’t ask permission. He just needed to go outside. Every morning, every evening, rain or shine. And because of him, we were forced out the door. Forced into the light. Forced into the air. And something shifted.
We start our days outside now — sunlight in our eyes first thing in the morning. According to Nirvana Healthcare, morning light triggers your body’s cortisol production, helping you feel more awake, improving mood and focus, and reinforcing your circadian rhythm so you sleep better at night. But you don’t need a study to tell you that. You can just feel it. There is something about standing in the morning air, coffee in hand, watching the world come alive — that no alarm clock, no notification, no scroll through your phone can replicate. It wakes something up in you that is older than all of it.
We end our days outside too. Watching the moon rise. Watching the stars come out before we come in for the night. It feels a little enchanting. Like we are remembering something we forgot we knew.
Barefoot in the grass. Playing fetch. Riding bikes. And when we finally come inside, Jarrod — my partner — always says the same thing:
“You guys smell like outside. Do you know that?”
I do know that. And I want them to always know that smell.
Seven Minutes
According to the National Recreation and Park Association, American children spend an average of just four to seven minutes a day in unstructured outdoor play — compared to 7.5 hours in front of electronic media. I sit with that number a lot. Because I don’t think we are bad mothers — I think we are tired mothers living in a world that has made inside feel easier, safer, and more convenient than outside. The screens are right there. The couch is right there. And after a long day, the path of least resistance is very, very tempting.
But something is being lost in that convenience. Not just vitamin D or fresh air — though yes, those too. Something quieter. Something harder to name.
I think what gets lost is the part of a child that learns to be with herself. To be bored and figure out what to do about it. To build something out of sticks and mud and imagination. To fall down and get back up without anyone scoring it. Unstructured time outside doesn’t just tire kids out — it builds them.
And it builds us too. If we let it.
Mother, When Did You Last Feel the Sun on Your Face?
Most of us are spending even less time outside than our kids are. We are the ones wrestling everyone into their boots, packing the snacks, loading the stroller — and then standing at the edge of the playground scrolling our phones while the fresh air moves right past us.
We call it self-care when we book a massage or carve out a bath with the door locked. But I wonder if we’ve overcomplicated it. If we’ve convinced ourselves that restoration has to be scheduled, purchased, or earned.
What if the most powerful thing we could do for ourselves is already right outside the back door?
Sunshine is not a luxury. Fresh air is not a reward. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your face, standing in the grass in your bare feet, breathing in the morning before the noise of the day begins — that is your nervous system being tended to. That is Mother Nature doing what she has always done, if we are willing to step outside and let her.
Twenty minutes. That’s all the research says it takes to meaningfully reduce stress. Not a weekend away. Not a spa day. Twenty minutes outside. The length of one cup of coffee. The length of one loop around the block with a dog who needs a walk anyway.
Self-care, at its most honest, might just be this: stepping outside. Letting the light find you. Letting yourself be a little unscheduled, a little unhurried, a little wild.
Mother Nature has been nurturing things long before any of us got here. We are allowed to be one of them.
What the Wild Teaches
I was raised in a place where growth was slow and earned and never guaranteed. Where you planted things, tended them carefully, and waited. Where you worked with the land, not around it.
I live in the city now. But I am determined to raise children who still know the feel of soil under their feet. Who know what it means to have nowhere to be. Who know the smell of outside.
It doesn’t have to be a farm. It doesn’t have to be Western Kansas. It just has to be intentional. A back porch. A mud puddle. A dog who needs a walk. A moon worth stepping outside to see.
Let them be a little feral. Let yourself be a little feral too.
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Want more on this? You might also love The Manicured Life vs. The Life That Grows Wild and I See You — Peace Begins Closer Than We Imagine. Come find me on Instagram and tell me what your version of getting outside looks like.