The phrase “quality time” seems to pop up everywhere these days—from social media to parenting advice columns. As a working mom with a toddler, I’ve done my fair share of pondering this concept of quality time and how to orchestrate it. After much reflection, I’ve reached a rather blunt conclusion: it’s nonsense.
I have no qualms about dedicating moments to my child. Every minute away from my job is thoughtfully arranged around him: my commutes, my evenings, and my weekends are all centered on this little spark of joy who makes my heart sing. Sure, I sometimes wish we could sneak in a few more hours of sleep together, but at the end of the day, we’re still together, and that’s what matters.
As his mom, my role is to nurture, comfort, and educate him daily. It’s essential for both of us to share moments together. In fact, he’s the one teaching me invaluable lessons about motherhood—lessons that only he can impart. I recognize how crucial our time together is, and I’m committed to maximizing it.
However, the notion of “planning” quality time is downright overwhelming. It brings on a level of stress akin to the anxiety of facing a high-stakes test in school. I feel like a child again, sitting at my desk, dreading the moment when my teacher announces the final assignment that could make or break my year. That’s how it feels when I think about scheduling quality time with my son—like I’m tiptoeing around, terrified that one misstep might haunt him for life or that not enough of this precious time will land him on a therapist’s couch in the future.
The pressure to carve out these moments adds unnecessary stress to my already busy life. Right now, if my family has managed to eat dinner and spend more than five minutes together in the same room by 8:00 p.m., I consider it a victory. Given our current reality, planning a family outing or a midweek park trip for “quality time” simply isn’t feasible.
Moreover, the idea that quality time can be meticulously scheduled is quite absurd. I can plan all I want, but that doesn’t guarantee the activity I choose will resonate with my son. For a toddler, quality time looks completely different than it does for an adult. For him, it might be our daily drive home, belting out the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song (which he adores and I barely tolerate) while sipping apple juice. For me, it’s those crafting moments I eagerly anticipate. I once dreamed of capturing a painted handprint, but when I introduced the paint, he erupted in tears and fled the table!
Planning didn’t help at all. He didn’t care about the so-called quality time; he simply wasn’t interested in that activity. That experience taught me an important lesson: you can’t schedule memories like you would a dental appointment. They can’t be slotted into a planner like to-do lists.
What my son really needs isn’t meticulously planned quality time; he needs me to create meaningful moments from our everyday lives. He thrives when we transform mundane errands into adventures—splashing in puddles during grocery store runs or marveling at rainbows after summer showers. He benefits from spontaneous tickle fights and silly dance parties that encourage him to embrace joy. He deserves surprise kisses and playful sharks to keep his imagination alive. He needs me to help him build a treasure trove of unforgettable experiences with mom.
These precious moments can’t be artificially orchestrated. Attempting to plan them often diminishes their magic and the wonder of childhood. I will arrange trips and vacations, and yes, I’ll likely schedule visits to art galleries and theaters, even if my son might groan in protest. But when it comes to quality time? I won’t schedule it—I’ll create it.
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Summary
In the quest for meaningful connections with our children, the pressure to plan “quality time” can be overwhelming and often counterproductive. Instead of trying to schedule these moments, we should focus on creating them from our daily experiences, allowing spontaneity to enhance our relationships.