Another summer is coming to a close and again I’m wondering if I did it wrong. This seems to be the way I spend the last weeks of every summer— feeling guilty, feeling frazzled, imagining all the things I could have or should have done differently.
And it’s not just about the things we didn’t do, but about the things we did that didn’t go the way I hoped.
I was processing one of those experiences with my mom the other day. I took the kids on a little hike (really more of a nature walk) for the afternoon. In my mind, this was going to be a fun and carefree time of just enjoying nature. No screens! No pressure! No squabbles over toys!
And then reality hit.
Everybody wanted a water bottle, but nobody wanted to carry one. The nature center only gives out one map per group and half the kids are angry/crying because someone else is holding the map. Some kids will only be happy if we do the full hike that includes getting a view of an actual buffalo. Some kids don’t want to hike that far and will cry halfway through. Little girls are upset that they can’t pee into the woods like the little boys can. I didn’t bring snacks. A kid cut his hand by grabbing a blade of tall grass (I’m not even making this up. There was blood and everything). And on and on it goes. If you’ve ever been hiking with a crew of young kids, you know the drill.
So I was explaining to my mom what a bust the whole thing was because she only saw the pictures I shared and they were adorable. My mom listened to my description of the whole fiasco and said, “You’ll never regret taking them on that hike. They’ll only remember the good parts.”
I know she’s right because I only remember the good parts too. Some of my favorite childhood memories are the family vacations where we stepped outside of our normal routine. I’m sure there were fights. I know my mom didn’t always remember to bring snacks and I grew up in the days before water bottles were even a thing. We got hot, we got bored, we got injured, but we were together as a family. No phones, no friends, no screens.
These moments are how we create connections between our kids. We take on the frustration as parents in order to allow them the freedom to be silly, to care for each other, to learn something about themselves and about the world. And even the hard parts will become funny stories they love to retell. 30 years later and I’m still laughing about how my parents refused to buy the overpriced food at Disneyland and made us eat beef jerky they smuggled in, but it was some kind of spicy jerky that punished you for eating it. We spent the day going back and forth between being starving and then eating jerky that you instantly regretted putting in your mouth. The hundreds of dollars my parents spent taking us to Disney and that is almost the only thing I can remember. But that isn’t with disappointment, it’s with love and laughter about what it was like to be part of our family.
I don’t know what stories my kids will remember. Maybe it will be this hike when in spite of all the whining and crying, they held hands and gave piggyback rides to each other. They wondered at the shaggy buffalo together. They climbed trees and threw rocks into the water. Maybe they will only remember the good parts.
I don’t want my expectations to ruin the moment. I don’t want my love of routine and schedule to keep me from giving my kids space to create these memories with each other. I don’t want to judge the success of these endeavors by how closely they resembled the perfect moment I created in my mind. The arguments and crises are sometimes necessary to help us become people who know how to make peace and solve problems.
Yet again I am ending a summer fixated on what I didn’t do for my kids. No big road trips. We didn’t get to a beach or even a lake for swimming. I forgot to make them do much reading or writing and most of their math skills were maintained by making them figure out how many minutes were left before it was their turn on whatever screen or toy they were fighting over. I didn’t teach them to bake or sew or garden.
But my hope is that they’ll only remember the good parts. The simple times. The times we were together. I am finishing this summer knowing I accomplished the biggest goal I set when we started it: We know each other a little bit better. I’m learning that sometimes it takes the outings that feel frustrating and entirely unsuccessful to me to make that happen.