You know that moment when herbalism stops feeling like something you do and starts feeling like something you live? That’s where I am right now.

It’s woven into our days. Into our kitchen, our rhythms, and the way I mother.

And it’s not rigid. We don’t only use herbs. We don’t throw everything else out. It’s slower than that. Gentle. Intentional. Just part of everyday life.

It starts with exposure, not expectation.

I don’t force herbs, I let my children experience them.

They see jars on the shelves. We read stories about nature, plants, and herbs. They smell tea steeping. We walk about and study the herbs within our own yard. They watch me work with plants in simple ways. Sometimes they’re curious, sometimes they’re not. Either way, they’re building familiarity.

Herbalism, in our home, looks simple.

It looks like lemon balm tea on overwhelming afternoons. Chamomile before bed. Peppermint for upset tummies. Elderberry when sickness starts moving through.

Nothing dramatic. Just small, steady support.

Over time, I’ve noticed little shifts. They’ll start asking for things on their own, like “sleepy tea” before bed or “tummy tea” when they don’t feel right. Those small moments always get me, because that’s when I realize we’ve integrated herbalism into our lives. It makes me proud to teach my children the power of the plants that surround them.

I let them be part of it.

They pour, stir, scoop, and help when they want to. It’s slower and messier, but it gives them ownership. They’re not just receiving care, they’re part of creating it.

We focus on connection over perfection.

Some days we use herbs often. Some days we don’t at all.

What matters more to me is that they’re learning to listen. They’re learning to listen to their bodies, to what they need. Herbalism becomes less about fixing and more about paying attention.

Sometimes the answer is an herb.
Sometimes it’s rest, water, fresh air, or being held.

It’s not all or nothing.

We still use conventional medicine when needed. Herbalism just expands our options. It gives my children a wider understanding of how to care for themselves.

What I hope they carry with them

Not that they grow up to be herbalists, that’s never been the goal.

I just hope they always have something gentle to fall back on. Something steady when life feels overwhelming or uncertain.

I hope they remember what it feels like to be cared for in the small, quiet ways… a warm cup in their hands, a familiar smell, a moment to slow down and breathe.

I hope they learn to trust their bodies instead of fearing them. To listen when something feels off, and to respond with curiosity instead of panic.

I hope they feel connected to the plants around them, like they’re not separate from the world but a part of it.

And more than anything, I hope they carry that sense of comfort with them as they grow… that they always know how to come back to themselves.

If all they take with them is how to make a simple tea, recognize a few herbs, and trust their instincts… that’s more than enough.


If you’re wanting to bring herbs into your home with your kids, I’ve been slowly gathering books that help make it feel natural and approachable.

You can browse the ones we’re using (and planning to use) here:
👉 Herbalism Resources for Kids

This list includes affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them, at no extra cost to you. I only share resources we truly love or are excited to use in our home.

I’ll keep adding to this as we find favorites.

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I’m Abbi!

The Colorful Herbalist is my journal of learning herbalism while raising three kids at home. I’m a homeschooling mama and a first-generation herbalist, slowly bringing plant wisdom back into our daily rhythm. Somewhere along the way my ancestors dropped the ball, so here I am picking it back up.

This space is my personal materia medica mixed with real-life reflections, plus a few affiliate links to things I genuinely use and love.

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