Bless this Beautiful Chaos

Some mornings start with hot coffee and a good book, relaxing on the couch in a quiet serene home.

Others start with someone screaming “MOM!!! It’s so rainy again!!”

Guess which happens more often.

Raising boys in Alaska is like parenting in a National Geographic documentary… however it’s, less camera crew and more muddy laundry.

These boys were born for the wild. Literally. They’d rather pee outside. They think shirts are optional. And they have zero fear of jumping off rocks, climbing trees, or wading into creeks barefoot “just to see how cold it really is.”

My living room is part zoo, part hot wheels car lot, part mud room, part survival training camp.

There are often sticks, shells, beach glass, and the occasional rock crab shell on my kitchen table. Rocks in the dryer.

There will come a day I’m certain I’ll find a fishing hooks in the couch cushions and pocket knives in the laundry bins.

And the thing is… I wouldn’t trade it.

They are wild.

And loud.

And somehow always sticky.

But they are also curious, brave, and deeply kind in ways that sneak up on me in the middle of the chaos.

Like when they whisper to the salmon before they release it: “Thanks for letting me catch you.”

Or when they bring me the biggest, squishiest dandelion bouquet I’ve ever seen, beaming like it’s diamonds.

There’s no such thing as a clean day around here.

Not when you’re raising boys who think every puddle is a baptism and every trail is a mission.

But I’ve come to love the mess.

The mess means they’re out there living.

It means scraped knees and muddy socks and lessons in resilience and risk.

It means they’re learning firsthand that nature is not a place to fear—it’s a place to know.

And also that moss is probably not a snack.

We come home wet, cold, hungry, and happy.

They smell like campfire and creek water and adventure.

I smell like bug spray, sweat, and whatever else they wiped on me.

By bedtime, the house is wrecked.

My feet & legs are sore from keeping up.

The floor has some extra dog hair from the day before.

But my heart?

It’s so full.

So bless this chaos.

Bless the wild, barefoot childhood.

Bless the dandelions and dirt and the constant sound of “MOM, WATCH THIS!”

And bless the moms who are raising boys with scraped knees, tangled hair, and hearts that already know how to love big and live free.

Even if they forget where they put their rain boots every single day.