I have always unabashedly owned my identity as not a fun mom. If you need someone to create routines and schedules, I’m your girl. I am the mom who sets bedtimes, makes sure that we have the ingredients for the lunch boxes for the week and do not have to dash out to the grocery store at 9 pm, and assigns every person in the family a special color on our shared digital calendar. I am not, however, the mom who is spontaneous or who easily abandons the known structures that work for our household. I do not ever just “wing it.”
For the most part, this works for my family. My kids like our routines. They know that on the weekends we have family movie nights, that dinner happens at 5:30 pm, and that we read a Bible story all together before splitting off into our own rooms for the night. Sometimes I worry that I may be inculcating too much rigidity in my children (my husband Dan and I notice how much they react to disruptions to our usual schedules happen), but they thrive on routine. I thrive on routine. I think most humans thrive on routine.
And yet I do wonder if I will look back at this time and realize we missed on out on so many memories. For memories to happen, we need to do something different and special—memories are a departure from our everyday. My kids will remember “Sundae Monday”—we have ice cream sundaes on Mondays—because they do not regularly have ice cream sundaes on other days of the week. This summer especially that Annie Dillard quote “how we spend our days is how we spend our lives” has run constantly through my head. I do not want to just “get through” the time; I want to enjoy it (May I even go so far as to say savor it?).
Planning fun is one of my strategies to create more fun (see above “Sundae Mondays”). I am sure some of you cringed as you read that sentence, but for my Type A, Enneagram 3 self, who always wants to be productive, that is one of the best ways for me to make it happen. I struggle with doing fun things with my 11-year-old and 5-year-old that are fun for them and decidedly not fun for me. No thank you, I do not want to play Candy Land for the thirteenth time today or look at the contents from your newest Hatchimal. I will make the time for all of the things I deem essential for their growth and development—family dinners, homework, reading before bed, teeth brushing, and the list goes on and on—but play does not come naturally to me. Child development experts will tell you now how important play is for building attachment; it is good for parents to play with their children. I would really and truly rather clean the kitchen. But I am trying to do better, and I find setting expectations helpful. If I promise to play Candy Land for ten minutes 30 minutes from now, I feel much more in control than if I have to continue to answer to “can we play now?” over and over again.
Another piece of this is finding things to do that win me points as a fun mom that are actually fun for me. Watching shows together (from my curated list, heavy on the 90s nostalgia) is the lowest effort of the bunch but also lowest in opportunities for interaction and engagement. We go for walks, which I think my kids consider fun because they love being outside and on their various wheeled objects. We go places like the new ice cream shop or trusty Target.
I try to remind myself that fun does not have to be some grand, outrageous gesture; fun usually takes all of 20 minutes. The dishes can wait or my book can wait for 20 minutes. Yet sometimes, on busy weekdays when downtime is in scarce supply, even 20 minutes feels like too much time to give away. A recent Friday afternoon I took my youngest for ice cream after school. We turned in the opposite direction from home, got a scoop of oat milk cookie dough, and sat on the bench outside. He saw two Labradoodles that he wanted to greet. Normally I would be hurrying him along, but I willed myself just to give myself over to the experience. It was Friday. I had no reason to rush, no reason to hurry to start dinner or squeeze in just a few more emails. My son went back and forth between licking ice cream off his spoon and petting the dogs, and after 20 minutes, we headed back to our car to go home.
I know myself well enough to recognize that I will not radically change my ways overnight (nor do I want to, if I am honest). I can, however, strive for just a little bit better. How could I be 1 percent more fun in this situation? Maybe repeating that question will help me occasionally forgo remarks about table manners and chores, or maybe I can every so often indulge the kids’ request to stay up past bedtime and finish a show. Chasing that 1 percent adds up…maybe even to a fun(ish) mom.
Love your routine