The most underrated season is also the one that changed how I run my business. 

There's a moment every spring when I open the back door and my kids come in looking like they lost a wrestling match with the earth itself. Jacket? A write-off. Boots? Somewhere in the yard. Socks? Genuinely unaccounted for. 

And for years, I treated that moment like a problem to be solved. Then somewhere between my third load of laundry and my second cup of reheated coffee, I had a thought: what if mud season is actually trying to tell us something? 

A little love letter first 

Mud season is the most honest season. It's not trying to be pretty. It shows up, makes a mess, and dares you to find the joy in it anyway, which, honestly, is also a pretty good description of starting a business. 

It's also a sign that something is happening underneath. The ground is thawing. Roots are drinking. Everything frozen and stuck is starting to move again. 

The practical part (because I am nothing if not practical) 

Gear that's actually built for it: This is the hill I will die on — and it's why I started Hootie Hoo. Kids who are warm, dry, and unrestricted just GO. They don't negotiate. They don't hover at the door. They splash straight into the puddle and come back pink-cheeked and absolutely delighted. The right technical layers make that possible. Waterproof on the outside, cozy on the inside, tough enough for the mud and the washing machine both. 

Designate one outfit per kid as the mud outfit: Old beloved base layers, the boots they've nearly outgrown... things you've already made peace with. It reduces the door-step negotiation by about 80%. 

A boot tray at every door: Every door. I'm not joking. This one costs $12 and it will save your sanity. 

The mindset shift is the whole thing 

Here's what I've noticed: mud season requires you to be present. You can't plan your way out of it. You just have to put on the right gear, accept that things will get messy, and go anyway. 

I've been trying to run my business more like that. 

There are seasons, in parenting and in entrepreneurship, where you're just in the muck. Not because you did something wrong. Not because you need a better system. Sometimes things are muddy because something is thawing, something is growing, and the process is just inherently a little wet and gross. 

I've started asking myself: Do I have the right gear on? Am I trying to keep things clean that don't need to be clean right now? What might be growing underneath all this?

 The goal isn't to avoid the mud. It's to be dressed for it. My kids have been trying to teach me this for years. They have never once looked at a muddy puddle and thought this is not the right time for this. They just jump, sometimes with a little sideways smirk at me, just to make sure I'm watching. 

I'm still learning. But the gear helps. 

Happy spring. May your layers be waterproof and your expectations be flexible. 

Claire 

Mom of two & Co-founder of Hootie Hoo