As someone who fits the eldest daughter stereotype to the letter (you can Google that, it’s a thing), and who lives by lists and calendars, it’s not surprising that I’ve never thrown a party without obsessing over the menu, theme and decor at least a few weeks in advance.

Even when it’s not a big event, like a birthday or holiday party, if we’re having folks over, I like to have things perfect to maximize the experience for everyone. 

What normally happens with this, though, is that I run around trying to get all the things I think I need to get done, and I end up slightly frazzled and don’t enjoy the process. Honestly, I think this is a Southern thing. It’s bred into us by our mothers who have the reputation as the perfect hostesses.

It’s not just a woman thing though, as evidenced by my husband, who all of a sudden decided he had to pressure-wash the siding before we had six people over for a Friday night dinner on the porch.

After that night, which was a ton of fun despite our combined neuroses, I decided two things: One, we need to invite friends over more, and two, we need to chill out and embrace the joy of the imperfect get-together. 

This is the kind of get-together where you find yourself with a free evening and just send out a random text stating, “Hey, come on over tomorrow. Let’s relax on the deck.” It’s the kind of get-together where the kids run wild and barefoot in the yard, no one is wearing cute outfits and we’ve compiled together whatever's in the fridge for dinner.

Or we order takeout. Or we decide that popsicles, chips and cantaloupe are just fine for a Tuesday night summer dinner.

It's not always about impressing each other or making sure your table and charcuterie board are Instagram worthy. It’s about time spent with your people, the ones who bring you joy and fill your cup. 

The glory of the imperfect get-together is that you don’t have to care. You can just relax and laugh together over a glass of wine served in a coffee mug while the kids play in the creek and your hair is in a messy bun. No one is bothered by some dirt on the kitchen floor.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know enough about myself to say that I will still plan the bigger events. I’ve had the theme for my son’s second birthday planned before his first birthday was even over. But I want to embrace the smaller, messy ones, too.

Each get-together has its place, and they complement each other and bring balance. 

I’ve been craving this type of balance in other areas of my life. I’m looking for a slower, more sustainable pace. Hustle and grind is great, but you can only do it for so long.

I want some unbusy days. Some slow nights on the front porch watching the sunset, some lazy days dangling our feet in the river, some mornings when we’re not out of our pajamas before lunch.

It’s hard though. As a wife, mother and career women who also has a family farm and a side hustle or two, I’ve always been built for ambition. But as I get older, I’m yearning for something a little more gentle. 

I’m leaning into it. Let’s see where it goes. 

Watson-Hampton farms with her family on their fourth-generation family farm in Brandywine, Md.