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How We Stopped Watching Other Families’ Adventures (And Started Our Own)

Thursday, March 26, 2026

What Is Dirty Day?

Okay, so we need to talk about Dirty Day.

Not the cute, IG version.
The actual, muddy, “this might be a bad idea” version.

Because here’s what I know:

Most of us are watching other people live the childhood we wish our kids were having.

We see:

  • Luke from Outdoor Boys cooking like a bushcraft Gordon Ramsay
  • Families on 10 acres with goats and ponds and a rope swing
  • Kids who know how to start a fire, read a compass, identify birds, and pack a backpack without melting down

And we want that.

Obviously.

We want it so much we follow, we save, we send the videos to our spouse with “THIS!!” and then… we go back to our regular Tuesday run grind.

That was us.

We were “those people” scrolling wanting to be “those people” on the screen.

And at some point we just got tired of our own inadequacies. Because trust me, there were plenty.

​Tired of:

  • “We don’t live in Alaska.”
  • “We don’t have land.”
  • “We don’t have time.”
  • “The weather isn’t like that here.”
  • “Dang, I wish I had a tractor."
  • “We don’t really know what we’re doing.”

So we did something almost offensively simple.

We made one decision:

One afternoon.
Once a week.
Outdoors.
As a family.
Trying new things.

We called it Dirty Day.

And it changed our boys.
And us.

This guide is the how.

If you want to steal it, tweak it, rename it, whatever…good.
​Do that. Make it yours.

Step 1: Decide You’re Done Watching Other People’s Childhoods

This is the first step, and it’s invisible.

You have to actually get sick of your own excuses.

For us it sounded like:

“If we keep saying ‘one day’ about this, our boys will be grown and we’ll still be watching YouTube.”

So we made a quiet, internal line in the sand:

We are not going to be the family that only watches other families live the life we want for our kids. If we watch it, and we’re inspired…dang it, we’re going to try it. Even if its a minor version or a complete flop.

That’s it.

No vision board.
No 12-step curriculum.
Just a decision:

We will go.
Even if we feel unprepared.

Your move:
Say it out loud.

​To your spouse, or to your kids, or to your journal:

“I am done only watching other families’ adventures. We’re going to start our own, even if it’s small and a bit chaotic.”

It matters that you hear yourself say it.

Step 2: Pick One Day. Own it. (We Chose Wednesday.)

Okay, here’s where it gets real.

Dirty Day only works because it’s scheduled.

Not “when it works out.”
Not “when we have a free weekend.”
Not “when the weather is good.”

For us, it’s Wednesday.

The boys wake up and they know.

First question:
“Is it Dirty Day?”
Second:
“What are we doing?”

That anticipation is half the magic.

So:

Your move:
Pick:

  • One day of the week
  • One time block (afternoon, evening, or Saturday morning)
  • And commit: “This is outside. As a family. Non-negotiable.”

Write it on the calendar like jiu jitsu practice or piano.

Because if it’s not on the calendar, it’s not happening.
You already know that.

Is it going to get interrupted by life sometimes?
Yes.

But the default is:
“It’s Dirty Day. We go.”

​If you need a script, use this:

“Every [day], from [time] to [time], our family has Dirty Day. We go outside together and do something new. We don’t cancel for convenience.”

Step 3: Assign the Lead (Hint: Let Dad Carry This)

This is my favorite part as a homeschool mom of four boys.

Dirty Day is Matt’s thing.

Not because I couldn’t do it.
But because honestly, I shouldn’t.

Our boys need this from him in a way they don’t need it from me.

Dr. James Dobson talks in Bringing Up Boys about the deep, stabilizing impact of an engaged, present father—especially in adventure, risk, and skill-building.

Boys are constantly asking, without words:
“Do I have what it takes?”
“Do you see me?”
“Can I do hard things?”

But when a Dad shows the way—it’s an unmatched win for boys as they see their dad leading from the front.

So I gave it away. Because it was really never mine to begin with.

Your move:

If you're a Mom, Invite Dad to own it. Not assist. Own. And then, support. Even if it’s messy and not the way you would do it. Let him. This is truly the best thing ever. Try it, you’ll see why.

“Once a week, can this be your thing with the kids? I’ll support, but you lead.”

If you're a Dad, Claim it. Your sons need to see you lead yourself first before they will even follow you.

“Yeah, lets get out and focus on the kids learning something new. I'll start with something simple.”

If you're solo parenting, You’re not disqualified. You might recruit an uncle, grandpa, trusted family friend—or you just lead it yourself and know that it still counts. Fully.

"Hey, I want to give my kids regular outdoor activities and I'd like your help. Would you be willing to come with us? We'd love it if you can come." 

Step 4: Start Ridiculously Simple (Seriously. Lower the Bar.)

Here’s where people bail.

We imagine Dirty>Backpacking trips.
Survival shelters.
Bushcraft kitchens with cast iron and elk meat.

So if we can’t do that, we do nothing.

No. That was the old us.

When we started, it looked like this:

  • Go to the park.
  • Make a fire in the designated pit.
  • Burn some hot dogs
  • Show the boys how to use a ferro rod we got from amazon.
  • Try new fire start ideas we saw on Outdoor Boys.

That’s it.

Other weeks, we:

  • Took a short hike to a local waterfall.
  • Built a snow fort up the canyon (because it was an sucky year for snow)
  • Went to a random park and played whistle tag and got lost and found.

We were not professionals.

We’re just “people who go.”
And now…we actually know stuff.

And the progress comes from repetition, not complexity.

Your move:

Pick your first three Dirty Days ideas right now.

Keep them small and stupidly doable:

  • Week 1: Park + fire (or just exploring)
  • Week 2: Easy trail + snack at the end
  • Week 3: Creek play + rock throwing + mud

Write them down in a note sheet on your phone. Let the ideas accumulate as your inspired when you’re scrolling/youtubing. And order what you need to prepare if necessary.

The ideas don’t need epic.

​Pro-tip: Don’t tell your kids what you’re doing until it’s dirty day. It’s part of the fun, and allows you a chance to be inspired and a little spontaneous. On your family calendar, keep the label simple “Dirty Day” or DD.

Rule 5: Let It Be Messy (That’s the Point)

The name is not metaphorical.

It’s a Dirty Day.

So:

  • Clothes will get filthy
  • Plans will change
  • Someone will fall in a creek
  • Weather will do whatever it wants

Go anyway.

Some of our absolute favorite memories have been the “bad idea” days.

Like:

  • Hiking in the snow when sane people were home by a fire
  • Getting blown away in a windstorm, and pushing against the wind.
  • Starting a fire that took way too long, and the boys finally got it and lost their minds with excitement

You’re not building a curated photo album.
You’re building resilience.

Your move:

Set two expectations:

For you:

“It will be imperfect and that means it’s working.”

Your kids’ expectation:

“Dirty Day means we go anyway. We pivot if we have to. We don’t quit because it’s hard.”

Rule 6: Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

The power of Dirty Day isn’t any one epic adventure.

It’s the rhythm.

One afternoon.
Once a week.
Outdoors.
As a family.
Trying new things.

Over time, something happens:

  • Your kids start to expect challenge
  • You start to feel competent
  • Skills stack: fire, map, compass, hiking, biking
  • You start to say, “We’re the kind of family who goes outside” …and it’s actually true
  • And maybe, you’re friend says “you guys are so cool” and you actually feel like you can agree.

But we don’t do it to be cool. We do it because deep down, it’s what we want for our kids. Real world experiences. Feeling the wind. Eating a mediocre pancake that tastes like heaven…because they made it. Or making their first fire with a ferro rod and feeling ownership.

We were absolutely not “outdoors experts” when we started.

To be honest, we’re becoming more and more each Dirty Day.

Not because we studied.
Because we showed up. Every Wednesday.

If You Want to Start This Week

Use this as your plug-and-play:

           1. Decide the day + time
                         “Every Wednesday, 3–6 PM is Dirty Day.”
           2. Assign the lead
                        “Dad, this is your thing.” (Or whoever’s leading.)
           3. Choose the first activity
                        Park + fire
                        OR creek + rock throwing
                        OR easy trail + snacks
          4. ​Tell your kids:

“This [day] we’re starting something new. It’s called Dirty Day. Once a week we’re going outside together to try something new. It’s going to be messy and fun.”

          5. Go. Even if you feel timid.
​                     
              That’s kind of the point.

Hold on, let me just say this plainly:

You do not need 10 acres to get started.
You do not need Alaska for adventure.
You do not need more time to give your kids outdoors time.

You need one afternoon and the courage to look a little ridiculous while you figure it out.

Our boys will tell you—without hesitation—that Dirty Day is their favorite thing we do.

Not vacations.
Not presents.
Not anything with a screen.

Just weekly, muddy, imperfect, dad-led (mostly…I make sure we have snacks), and together as a family.

You can have that.

Start with this week.
One afternoon.
Once a week.
Outdoors.
As a family.
Trying new things.

And let the dirt do the rest.

Get The Download

One afternoon. Once a week. Outdoors. As a family. Trying new things.
​Let the dirt do the rest.

Want to download the guide for your first Dirty Day? Click Here!

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Other ways to connect with your son

1. Want the shortcut? Download the Free Field Guide for Raising Strong Sons — 7 hard-earned lessons every dad should know. No fluff. Just what works.
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2. Run the FATHERHOOD SYSTEMS CHECK — A quick, 3-minute gut check to see if you’re leading your son… or just reacting to life.
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3. Ready to go all in? Start the 3-Day Dad Challenge — This isn’t advice. It’s action. Three days. Three missions. See what kind of man your son is watching.
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