Fireworks, Freedom, and the 4th

 

There's something about the Fourth of July that feels like the full bloom of summer—popsicles melting faster than we can eat them, little feet running through sprinkler streams,  and skies that light up in burts of red, white, and blue wonder. 

This year, I watched the fireworks just just as a woman, but as a mother. And it hit different. 

I held my baby girl close, her strawberry-blonde hair catching the soft glow of the sparklers. She didn't understand the celebration or the meaning behind the booming sky—but she felt the rhythm of my heartbeat, the safe arms around her, the soft hush of my voice as I whispered, "It's okay, baby. Mama's got you." 

Because freedom looks a little different in motherhood.
It's not always about independence.
Sometimes it's the sacred surrender of your schedule.
The freedom to choose love over logic.
To trade sleeping in for sunrise snuggles.
To find joy in chaos and courage of caretaking. 

This season, I'm learning that being her mama means showing her what freedom feels like. It's the giggle that comes after a splash. It's trusting that her needs matter. It's creating a home where she knows she's cherished—not for what she does, but just because she's ours. 

 

And maybe that's the most patriotic thing I can do right now—raise a little human who knows kindness, confidence, and courage start right here, in this house, in this heart. 

So here's to the mamas lighting sparklers while holding bottles, or just observing as other family members do.
To the ones packing diaper bags and picnic baskets.
To those navigating toddler tantrums and BBQs like seasoned pros. 

We are raising the next generation of dreamers. believers, and firework-chasers. 

And that?
That's something worth celebrating. 

Happy 4th of July, from our little sparkler-lit season to yours. ❤️🤍💙

- Ariella's Mama