I Chose Them

I haven't written one of these in a while, and honestly, I haven't done a lot of things for The Painted Button in a while either.

For the past two months, I've been quiet. I haven't posted like I should. I haven't pushed sales like I should. I haven't stayed on top of everything the way I normally try to. I could sit here and give you a million excuses for why, but the truth is actually pretty simple.

I chose my kids.

And even typing that makes me emotional because why the hell should I feel like I need to explain that? But I do. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that if I wasn't constantly working, I wasn't doing enough. If I wasn't posting, someone else was. If I wasn't designing, someone else was. If I turned down an opportunity, someone else would take it. And if I stopped for too long, maybe everything we've worked so hard to build would slow down.

That scared me.

So for a long time, I tried to do both. I tried to be completely present with my kids AND run a business. I would watch the movie while working on a design, sit by the pool while checking my phone, go on vacation while worrying about whether something had been posted. I can't even count how many times my kids have heard, "Give me five minutes," "I just have to finish this," or "Hang on, Mommy's working."

And we all know those five minutes are almost never actually five minutes.

There's always another message to answer. Another order. Another design. Another post I should make. Another idea I need to write down before I forget it. When you own a business, there is always something you could be doing, and for a long time I let that make me feel like there was always something I should be doing.

Then something hit me this summer that hurt more than I expected.

They're waiting on me, too.

While I'm worried about keeping customers waiting, my kids are waiting for their mom to put her phone down. While I'm worried about missing a sale, I could be missing them. And when I really allowed myself to think about that, it broke my heart a little.

Because they're the entire reason I work as hard as I do.

They're the reason I've stayed up until ridiculous hours making shirts after already working all day. They're the reason I've stressed, cried, doubted myself, celebrated every order, dragged equipment to events, stood behind a heat press completely exhausted, and kept going on the days when quitting would've been easier.

I'm trying to build something for my family.

But what is the point of building something for them if I'm so busy building it that I'm not actually there to enjoy my family?

That question changed something in me this summer.

I didn't completely walk away from The Painted Button. I still answered things. I still worked when I needed to. Orders still got done and life still happened. But I stopped treating every single thing like it was an emergency, and I stopped feeling like every free second of my life had to be turned into something productive.

Instead, I started saying yes more.

Yes, I'll get in the pool. Yes, we can go do something today. Yes, we can stay up too late. Yes, I'll watch. Yes, I'm coming.

And God, I didn't realize how badly I needed that.

My kids aren't babies anymore, and I genuinely don't know when that happened. I swear I blinked. Suddenly they're becoming these whole little people with their own personalities, opinions, friends, jokes, interests, and lives that don't revolve completely around me anymore.

The older they get, the more I'm realizing there are only so many summers where I'm still the person they want to spend all their time with.

That realization hurts.

Because one day they won't be standing beside the pool asking me to get in. One day I won't hear "Mom, watch this!" fifty-seven times before lunch. One day staying home with Mom won't sound nearly as exciting as going somewhere with their friends. And one day, as crazy as it sounds right now, I'll probably be standing in a quiet house wishing I could hear them fighting in the other room one more time.

I'll have plenty of time to work then.

What I don't have is unlimited time with this version of them.

So yes, maybe I could've made more money these past two months. Maybe I could've booked more events, grown my following, sold more shirts, or taken opportunities that I passed on. I'm sure there are things I missed.

But there will be more opportunities. There will be more shirts, more markets, more orders, and more busy seasons.

I will never get the summer of 2026 with my kids back.

Ever.

When I really let myself sit with that, there isn't a single sale in the world that feels more important.

So if The Painted Button seemed a little quieter this summer, that's why. I was busy, just not the kind of busy that shows up on a sales report. I was making memories. I was watching my kids grow. I was trying to soak up the ordinary moments that don't feel important until suddenly they're gone.

I was busy being their mom.

And now I'm sitting here writing this the night before school starts. The backpacks are ready, the first-day outfits are laid out, we've done all the last-minute things that somehow always wait until the night before, and the house is finally quiet.

Tomorrow morning the alarms will start going off again. We'll probably be running around trying to get everyone out the door on time. Then come the school drop-offs, practices, homework, packed lunches, early bedtimes, and all the beautiful chaos that comes with another school year.

But tonight, sitting here in the quiet, it's really hitting me.

Summer is over.

Just like that, another summer with my kids is gone. And God, that hurts a little more than I expected it to.

As ready as I thought I was to get back into a routine, tonight there's a part of me that would give anything for just one more day. One more morning where nobody has anywhere to be. One more swim. One more late night. One more completely unnecessary trip for ice cream. One more random adventure. One more "Mom, come watch this."

Just one more day with exactly who they are right now.

Because tomorrow we'll walk into another school year, and somehow, when we come out on the other side, they'll be a little taller, a little older, a little more independent, and they'll need me just a little bit less.

That's motherhood, I guess. Spending years teaching these tiny humans how to need you less while secretly wishing you could freeze the moments when they still need you for everything.

But tonight, for once, I don't have to sit here wondering if I missed this summer.

I didn't.

I was there. Really there.

Maybe stepping away wasn't me neglecting my business at all. Maybe it was me finally remembering why I started working so damn hard in the first place.

Tomorrow, they'll go back to school, and I'll go back to work. The heat press will be running again. The messages will get answered. The designs will get made. The orders will go out. The Painted Button will get busy again, and truthfully, I'm excited for that too.

But tonight, I'm just Mom.

I'm sitting in a quiet house wondering how another summer went by so damn fast, looking at backpacks ready for tomorrow, and wishing there was some way I could freeze time for just a little bit longer.

I love The Painted Button. I love what we're building, and I'm incredibly excited for what's coming next.

But I love the little people I'm building it for infinitely more.

So for the past two months, I chose them.

And tonight, on the very last night of summer, I don't feel guilty about that anymore.

I feel grateful that I did.

Because if I had the chance to go back and choose all over again, I'd choose them.

Every. Single. Time.

-Brittney The Painted Button