Too Hot, Too Crowded: Why I Stopped Forcing Holiday Fun On My Kid

There’s a version of holidays we’re all supposed to strive for now—coordinated outfits, smiling photos at sunset, well-behaved kids, and parents who somehow manage to look well-rested. And if you scroll long enough, you might start to believe that’s what your own family memories are supposed to look like.

You don’t have to keep up with these new, unspoken standards, especially when they’re set by people with more time, more money, more help, or just different priorities. Your holiday doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s to be meaningful. Matching clothes and curated photos aren’t requirements. They’re choices. And you’re allowed to make different ones.

In this article:

What Last Year’s Fourth Taught Me About Holiday Stress

Holidays Aren’t Magical When You’re Stressed

How We’re Spending Independence Day

When July 4th Just Doesn’t Feel Worth Celebrating

Opting Out Doesn’t Mean Missing Out

If You Need a Little Help Opting Out

What Last Year’s Fourth Taught Me About Holiday Stress

Last July 4th, my in-laws were in town, so we packed up our then one-year-old and headed to a local fireworks show. It was hot. Crowded. Impossible to park. We ended up pushing the stroller in a giant circle while we waited for the show to start, trying to keep the baby from melting down.

• The fireworks lasted maybe 15 minutes.

• Getting out of that single-lane road traffic afterward took 90 minutes.

• It took five times longer to get there and home than we spent enjoying the actual show.

Happy Independence Day, right?

Related: The Ridiculous Pressure of Baby's First Holiday

Holidays Aren’t Magical When You’re Stressed

I don’t care how many moms post their smiling picnic photos with sparkler emojis. If your kid is screaming, the diaper bag weighs 50 pounds, and you can’t find parking, you are not making memories. You’re making a stress sandwich and trying to convince yourself it tastes like tradition.

Just because something is labeled “fun for the whole family” doesn’t mean it actually is.

Toddlers don’t care about photos. They care about not being strapped in a car seat for an hour. They care about comfort and whether you packed the snacks. The pressure to create picture-perfect traditions often makes holidays worse, not better.

How We’re Spending Independence Day

This year, there are no plans to chase fireworks. We’re keeping it simple. Chill. Maybe even lazy, but the good kind of lazy.

We’re more likely to be splashing around in our $150 pop-up pool wearing literally our underwear than we are to be lounging at some pretty resort in curated swimwear. And we’re having way more fun than those filtered snapshots suggest.

Our holiday celebration is:

• Letting our son run around barefoot in the backyard

• Sharing a $25 meal of hot dogs, fruit, and store-bought cake (yep, that’s enough)

• Skipping the crowds entirely and watching fireworks from YouTube in the air conditioning

Because we’re former partiers, we know how to enjoy ourselves. We just repurposed it. Now our idea of a wild night is a toddler giggle fit and no one needing a bath because the hose took care of it. Here’s how we made the switch.

When July 4th Just Doesn’t Feel Worth Celebrating

Not everyone feels patriotic right now—and not every family wants to slap on flag shirts and pretend otherwise. Whether you’re feeling disconnected from the holiday’s meaning, overwhelmed by the noise and expectations, or just done with being the one who makes the magic happen every time, you can sit this one out.

Some alternatives:

• Treat it like any other Friday: Skip the theme. Make grilled cheese. Do laundry. Take a nap.

• Have an UnFourth Day: Make it all about your freedom—freedom to rest, freedom from noise, freedom to eat cereal for dinner.

• Make it a protest or a pause: Reflect, journal, read something that helps you reconnect with what you believe in—not what the marketing machine tells you to.

• Create your own ritual: Light a candle for your mental health. Write down one thing you’re reclaiming this season. That’s your sparkler.

You are allowed to opt out. There’s no prize for powering through another exhausting holiday. The world doesn’t need one more forced celebration. It needs more people choosing peace.

Opting Out Doesn’t Mean Missing Out

Just because we’re skipping the parades and the packed community festivals doesn’t mean my son is missing out. He’s not waiting in line for face paint, sitting through a loud concert he doesn’t understand, or sweating in a stroller while we wander through an overcrowded park.

Here’s what we’re not doing this year:

• Long drives to “the best” firework show

• Crowded splash pads or community cookouts

• Waiting in lines for pony rides, balloon animals, or face paint

• Coordinated family photo ops in red, white, and blue

He doesn’t need a big production to celebrate the holiday. He just needs fun and parents who are laughing instead of stressing. And that’s what I want my kid to remember: holidays can be simple, happy, and enough.

If You Need a Little Help Opting Out

If you feel torn between what your kid actually needs and what you think you’re supposed to be doing this holiday, ask yourself this:

What do I want to feel at the end of the day?

Not what others will think. Not what you’ll post. Just what you want to feel in your body, your home, your energy. Do you want to feel connected? Calm? Like you actually had fun too?

If the current plan doesn’t lead you there, you’re allowed to change it.

And if saying no to your family’s invite or skipping a town-wide event makes you feel guilty? Here’s your permission slip: You don’t owe anyone your exhaustion. And you’re not a bad parent for protecting your peace of mind.

If you need a script, borrow this:

“That kind of outing just doesn’t work well for us right now, but we’ll be celebrating in our own low-key way this year.”

Or just say, “We’ve got our own plans”—and leave it at that.

You don’t need to over-explain a boundary that keeps your family emotionally intact.