Grow Better. Waste Less

We still remember the first time we admitted it out loud: travel with kids feels overwhelming.

Not because our son did anything wrong. Not because he was “too much.”
But because we were stretched thin, running on low sleep, high expectations, and nonstop logistics that left our nervous systems buzzing long before we even loaded the car.

There was one trip in particular, bags barely zipped, snacks tossed in last-minute, all three of us already a little overstimulated, when we sat in the driveway, looked at each other, and felt that lump-in-the-throat heaviness.

Why does something that should feel exciting suddenly feel like carrying the weight of the world?

It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t resentment.
It was overwhelm: quiet, creeping, draining overwhelm.

And in that moment, with our son humming happily in the backseat, we had a realization that hit us like a light bulb flicking on:

We weren’t overwhelmed because of travel.
We were overwhelmed because our nervous systems were fried long before we ever left home.

That moment changed everything.

We didn’t notice it happening at first.

It was just a few extra dishes in the sink, a pile of laundry that didn’t make it to the basket, toys that somehow scattered even when our son wasn’t playing with them. But slowly, quietly, the house began to feel heavier. Every corner reminded us of something we weren’t doing, something we should be tackling, something we were behind on.

And if we’re honest… we felt like we were failing.

We kept thinking, “If we can just get through today, we’ll catch up tomorrow.” But tomorrow came with more mess, more chores, and less patience. We were inside all the time trying to “stay on top of things,” but somehow the more we stayed in, the more overwhelmed we felt.

Then came the light-bulb moment.

One afternoon our son walked to the window, pressed his little hands against the glass, and said, “Can we go outside?” It hit us like a jolt, this house wasn’t just cluttered physically. It was cluttering our minds, our energy, and our connection with him.

We were trying to clean our way out of overwhelm… but what we really needed was a breath of fresh air.

That day, everything shifted.

There was a season when we were both in the same room but felt miles apart. We were busy, always busy, managing work, the house, parenting, errands, and everything in between. By the time the evening came, we had nothing left to give each other except exhaustion. We weren’t fighting, but we weren’t really talking either. We laughed less. We touched less. We were living side by side but not truly together.

It wasn’t one big argument that made us realize something was wrong, it was a quiet moment. One day, our son was outside digging in the dirt, proudly showing us the tiny sprout he found, and we realized we hadn’t been outside with him in weeks. We stood there, watching him play, and it hit us like a light bulb turning on, we were growing everything in our lives except each other.

We knew something needed to change.

That night, we talked honestly for the first time in a long while. We realized that connection isn’t something you stumble upon; it’s something you nurture. We decided to start small, with something simple, quiet, and grounding: a garden.