Make the Memories (Even When You’re Just Trying to Survive the Day)

Yesterday, we finally did it.

We took the kids to Disneyland for the very first time.

For years, we had reasons not to go.

First, they were too little. “They won’t remember it anyway,” we told ourselves.

Then they got older, and honestly? Disneyland with kids seemed like… a lot. The planning. The crowds. The cost. The walking. The potential meltdowns—both theirs and ours.

And then somewhere along the way, life just kept life-ing.

Soccer seasons happened. School happened. Work happened. Laundry happened. The days turned into months, and the months somehow turned into years.

Until one day we looked at each other and basically said, “You know what? Let’s just rip off the Band-Aid and go make some memories.”

So we did.

No months of overthinking. No perfect plan. Just a last-minute decision to stop waiting for the “right time.”

And it was perfect.

Not perfect in the Instagram way.

Perfect in the real-life way.

The kids laughed. They rode every ride they wanted to. They experienced the magic for the very first time. They held our hands without thinking about it. They smiled so big it made my mama heart ache a little.

And somewhere between the churros, the miles of walking, and hearing “Mom, watch this!” for the hundredth time, I realized something:

These are the good old days.

As moms, we’re so often stuck in survival mode.

We’re trying to keep everyone fed, make sure nobody shows up to soccer practice in flip-flops, answer seventeen questions before we’ve had coffee, and somehow remember that Spirit Day is tomorrow and your child absolutely must have a teal or purple shirt by 8 a.m.

Most days feel less like “making memories” and more like “barely keeping everyone alive.”

But memories aren’t only made at Disneyland.

They’re made when you pile onto the couch for family movie night and your kids still want to snuggle next to you.

They’re made when you read together before bed, even if you’re interrupted every three pages because someone suddenly needs to know if penguins have knees.

They’re made when little hands help stir spaghetti sauce, crack eggs, and somehow get flour in places flour should never be.

They’re made during board games around the kitchen table, backyard water fights, late-night ice cream runs, and random dance parties while unloading the dishwasher.

The truth is, our kids are growing up while we’re busy living.

One day there won’t be muddy cleats by the door. There won’t be endless requests for snacks. The house will be quiet. Too quiet.

And I have a feeling that years from now, we’ll look back and wish we had just a little more time.

More movie nights.

More bedtime stories.

More family dinners.

More “Mom, watch this!” moments.

Right now, many of us are deep in the trenches of motherhood. We’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and simply trying to make it to bedtime with our sanity intact.

I get it.

But every once in a while, if we stop worrying about the laundry, the dishes, the emails, and the endless to-do list, and simply enjoy our kids exactly as they are in this moment, something magical happens.

For just a minute, the rest melts away.

And all that’s left is us and the people we love most.

So stop waiting for the perfect time.

Take the trip.

Play the game.

Read the book.

Watch the movie.

Let them help make dinner, even if it takes twice as long.

Because childhood is fleeting.

And someday, these ordinary moments—the ones that don’t seem extraordinary at all—will be the ones we treasure most.

XO, Janthina