The whole saga: the typo, the logo, and the nephew we lost along the way

It started, the way many great family stories do, in the group chat.

I run a leadership company called Wildbrush Collective... a professional, respectable business catering to the needs of healthcare organizations and executives. One evening (in the early days of branching out in this business) as I typed up some content, I mistakenly dropped the r and stared wide-eyed and appalled at the potential of accidentally publishing that erroneously. 

And then I giggled about it's potential with my family... because that's who I am.

I quickly told ChatGPT to create a black and white bush with the company name "Wildbush Landscaping" and sent my four sisters and my nephew, Jackson (who dabbled in mowing lawns in high school and has his own prank story from his favorite aunt): "Wondering if any of you are interested in joining my sister company, Wildbush Landscaping."

Wildbush. Landscaping.

They jumped right on that. My sister who is an esthetician suggested she open one called Waxing Wild Bushes... I responded with another typo and the story continued.

My nephew, after likely opening his phone for the first time and seeing the nonsense, responds with, "There's only one thing I can do" and he left the group chat. 

This is the nonsense that brings me joy. 

I shared the story with a group of badass women at a retreat, and instead of letting it die a respectable death, they claimed it. The group chat that came as the retreat came to an end was labeled, fondly, as its own chapter — Blossom by Being-Wild Bush Chapter.

The end result -- we all needed some trucker hats that proudly announced our presence in the Wildbush community. 

We did. So now there are hats. And friends along the way all wanted their own. 

And I -- who am passionate about growth and development and life and finding joy in even the nonsensical -- figured there are a hell of a lot of other women who would love to be a part of the badass, "wild bush" women who are proudly owning their space in life -- some because it's the way they were wired from birth, and others because they're awakening to what it looks like to proudly grow wild and free. 

That's the whole origin story: one typo, kept on purpose, claimed by women who know that figuring out who the f*ck you are goes better with your people — and, apparently, matching hats.

Jackson may never want to rejoin the group chat. And that's okay -- he can appreciate from afar.