Last week, I called an impromptu family meeting at the dining room table. I came armed with a notebook, a pen, and a mission: make the most of our last days of summer before school routines return and snow threatens to fall.
“What else do you want to do before summer’s over?” I asked my kids, ready to scribble down their big ideas—day trips, movie matinees, outdoor adventures. I was poised to make dreams come true and be a hero of epic proportions.
They stared at me blankly.
“Can I have a hot dog?” my youngest finally asked.
“Are you serious? You just ate lunch 20 minutes ago,” I said, incredulous.
I prodded and prompted with ideas. I offered suggestions and reminded them this was their chance to tell me what fun they wanted to prioritize before our days were filled up with school.
Still nothing.
A soft knock on the door instantly ended the meeting. The neighbor kids were outside, ready to play. My boys bolted, nearly tipping their chairs over in the process, leaving me in front of an empty page. I jotted down a short list for myself: sunflower photos, snow cones, bison plant trail, Bismarck day trip.
The house was suddenly eerily quiet for a Tuesday afternoon. As I sat there, I realized something: my kids aren’t stressed about making the most of these final days of summer—it’s just me. I’m the one worried we’ll miss something or lose an opportunity for fun that disappears once school starts. The pressure to “live our best summer” had been pressing down on me, and I hadn’t even noticed how heavy it had become.
The truth is, the pressure to be a summer cruise director isn’t coming from my kids. In the name of summer fun, I sometimes create unnecessary stress for myself—telling myself it’s for them, when really, it’s not what they’re craving.
Sure, they enjoy trips and activities. But just as important is freedom, the lack of schedule, and ultimate flexibility. It’s having whole afternoons to play outside with friends they don’t see much during the school year—friends who don’t wander over when the snow piles high and windchills push kids inside.
It’s the thrill of a sidewalk “sale” with a toy cash register, cast off toys and rocks from the alley as “merchandise.” It’s turning the backyard into a “water park” with slip-and-slides, sprinklers, and every water gun we own. It’s scheming for hours about how to catch a garter snake, or watching minnows dart in the shallows under the walking bridge.
My kids couldn’t care less about my coordinated fun or trusty notebook. They want the kind of fun that happens naturally—when the day is long, the air is warm, and no one is in a hurry.
That little non-meeting was a reminder for me to slow down, too. To take the pressure off myself to fill every square on the calendar with one last hurrah before summer slips away. Instead, I’m trying to savor these schedule-free moments, knowing that a slower pace isn’t robbing my family of memories—it’s making space for the best ones.
We live in a world that makes it easy to compare our lives to others, even our summer vacations. It can feel like if we’re not busy, we’re missing out. But the truth is, life isn’t a competition to see who can do the most. It’s a journey we’re all taking at our own pace. And I want to end this summer not with exhaustion, but with the quiet satisfaction that we enjoyed it well.
Yes, I’ll still be sneaking off to The Shack for a snow cone. But this year, I’m not measuring summer by how many “things” we did. I’m measuring it by how often we laughed, how much time we spent together, and how fully we enjoyed what was right in front of us.
In the end, the best way to make the most of summer might be to slow down and let it happen.
For more on living well and embracing life in North Dakota visit amyallender.com or join me on social media @HeyMinot.
