Why Ordinary Days Matter More Than Big Moments

When I look back on my life and the memories I’ve made, you might assume I remember the big moments.

And to an extent, you’d be right.

The trip to Hawaii when I was a senior in high school.

The many RV trips through the Southwest with my aunt and uncle.

The weddings I’ve attended.

The funerals.

Christmas mornings.

Birthdays.

Those moments deserve to be remembered.

But when I think about the memories that bring me the most joy, those aren’t the first ones that come to mind.

Instead, I think about drinking coffee with my grandparents around their dining room table.

Playing checkers with my grandpa on the back patio.

Making cookies with my grandma.

My uncle teaching me to body surf.

My dad coaching my baseball teams.

Going to work with my mom and getting to eat lunch in the cafeteria.

The ordinary moments that maybe weren’t so ordinary after all.

Because while the big moments deserve to be remembered, that’s not where life actually happens.

Over the last four weeks of writing these articles, I haven’t written much about extraordinary days.

I’ve written about looking for the robot at Lowe’s.

Walking the boys to the baseball fields.

Swimming lessons.

Coffee shop dates.

Playing cribbage with my dad.

Family hikes.

Papa Pandas.

Monday night softball.

None of those days started with the intention of creating a lifelong memory.

I was simply living my life.

Maybe that’s exactly why they’ll be remembered.

As parents, we’re constantly trying to create magical moments.

Family vacations.

Trips to the zoo.

Christmas mornings.

Birthday parties.

We spend months planning experiences that we hope our kids will remember forever.

But what if that’s not what they’ll remember most?

What if, years from now, they remember holding your hand on a walk?

Throwing rocks into a stream.

Getting ice cream after running errands, something I wrote about in When Errands Turn Into an Adventure.

Playing Catch at the neighborhood ball fields.

Reading one extra chapter before bed.

Doing push-ups with Dad before the cartoons came on, like I shared in Little Eyes Are Always Watching.

What if we’re working so hard to create extraordinary memories that we overlook the ordinary moments that are quietly becoming extraordinary to them?

While writing this post, I came across a wonderful article from The Artful Parent called “8 Everyday Moments Children Remember More Than Parents Realize.” It reminded me that children often attach meaning to the moments we barely notice—the conversations around the dinner table, bedtime stories, neighborhood walks, and all the little routines that quietly become part of their childhood.

That idea is also supported by research from Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child. Their work on “Serve and Return” explains that children grow through thousands of small, responsive interactions with the adults who care for them. Healthy relationships aren’t built during one incredible vacation. They’re built one ordinary moment at a time.

Honestly…

Wouldn’t that be great?

Because most of our lives aren’t extraordinary.

They’re busy.

We go to work while our kids go to school.

We come home to homework and housework.

Practices.

Games.

Laundry.

Dishes.

Bedtime.

And because life feels so busy, we convince ourselves that we need to escape it every once in a while to make memories.

But maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place.

Maybe memories are made around the dinner table.

On walks around the neighborhood.

By reading one more story before bed.

By letting them stay at the creek five minutes longer.

By giving them a hug before school.

By buying a small treat while you’re already out running errands.

If that’s true, then we don’t have to wait for vacation to build a childhood they’ll remember.

We can do it today.

Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up, go through my morning routine, have breakfast, take Brooks to my mom’s house, and head to work.

After work we’ll probably have dinner.

I’ll do a few things around the house while a soccer game plays in the background.

Then I’ll help put Brooks to bed while Jillian puts Joseph down.

On paper…

That sounds like a completely ordinary day.

But what if Brooks decides to do push-ups with me again?

What if something funny happens over breakfast?

What if we spend dinner laughing about our day?

What if Brooks and I celebrate the same goal during the soccer game?

What if he reads more of the bedtime story to me than I read to him?

What if what began as an ordinary Tuesday quietly becomes one of the days he’ll remember years from now?

I’m done waiting for extraordinary moments.

Instead, I’m going to pay better attention to the ordinary ones.

Because life isn’t lived between vacations.

It’s lived on Tuesday nights.

And I have a feeling that’s where the memories are made.

Continue the Journey

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