I think somewhere along the way, parenting got a little confused with event planning. We see the festivals, the beach days, the birthday parties, the family outings, the perfectly packed weekends—and we start to feel like we need to make every Saturday and Sunday count. We want our kids to have a childhood full of memories, so we try to create them. But the funny thing about kids is that the moments we work the hardest to make special aren't always the ones they remember.

Some of my kids’ favorite memories have come from the completely unplanned moments. Like the nights when we're all tired, nobody feels like cooking, and I suddenly say, “Do you guys want to go get ice cream?” Ten minutes later we're piling into the car in pajamas, heading to our local Sonic, and the kids are acting like we just announced a trip to Disney World. There’s nothing Pinterest-worthy about it. No reservation, no matching outfits, no perfectly planned activity. Just sticky fingers, melted ice cream and three very happy kids sitting in the backseat. And somehow, those are the nights they talk about for weeks.

I've also noticed this when we make a big deal out of something that doesn't need to be a big deal. One Saturday, instead of planning an entire day out, we decided to stay home. We made pancakes for lunch, turned on music, let the kids run around outside and eventually ended up having an impromptu water-balloon fight in the backyard. It wasn't an “activity.” It wasn't on the calendar. Nobody had spent three hours researching where to go. But at bedtime, my kids were convinced it had been the best day ever. Meanwhile, I had spent almost no money, barely left the house and didn't have to load three kids into the car. That feels like a parenting win.

So as we head into Labor Day weekend, and into the busier rhythm of fall, I'm giving myself permission to stop trying to make every weekend a core memory. Our kids don't need a childhood packed with elaborate plans. They need us. They need the ordinary Tuesday nights, the Saturday mornings in pajamas, the spontaneous ice cream runs, the backyard games and the nights when we decide that dinner can be cereal because everyone is tired. We can take them to the festivals and plan the special outings, of course. But we don't have to manufacture magic every weekend. Sometimes, the magic is simply being together when nobody planned for it.