I’ve been on this parenting journey for over 13 years, and in that time, I’ve witnessed countless buzzwords come and go. New concepts like “gentle parenting,” “spirited child,” and the contrasting styles of “Crunchy Mom” and “Silky Mom” have all stirred discussions in parenting circles. One term that particularly resonates with many parents today is “core memory,” a beautiful concept popularized by Pixar’s emotionally charged movie, *Inside Out*. While I adore Pixar and the magic they create, I have some reservations about how we’ve embraced the notion of “core memories.” In fact, I sometimes ponder whether it might be wise to let this term fade, much like Bing Bong did.
For those who haven’t indulged in numerous viewings of *Inside Out* (complete with that familiar teary-eyed moment), let me fill you in. The idea behind “core memories” is truly poignant: each of us has specific experiences that shape our identities and support us through our lives. For Riley, the film’s protagonist, a memory of ice skating with her family serves as a mental anchor—a joyful recall that brings her comfort during challenging times. The way those memories are portrayed—washed in soft light and accompanied by a gentle piano melody—makes them all the more poignant.
As parents, we watch these scenes play out and can’t help but see our own experiences reflected back at us. The notion of “core memories” prompts us to evaluate our children’s lives through a similar lens. How can we nurture those joyous moments that might become important touchstones for them down the road?
Here lies my inner conflict. On one side, how beautiful is the notion of cultivating a childhood rich in memories that can evoke happiness and love as our children grow? Being intentional about creating moments of joy is undoubtedly a good thing. But on the flip side, I find myself questioning whether we truly have the right to dictate what our kids will remember. If you’ve ever had a chat with a child after a family vacation, you’ll know what I mean.
“Did you love our epic two-week trip filled with roller coasters, beach days, and swimming with dolphins? What was your favorite part?”
Brace yourself for the likely reply: “The escalator in the airport!”
Kids often find joy in the quirkiest, most unexpected places—places we might overlook completely as adults. This reality can be a humbling reminder that their takeaways from our meticulously planned experiences may differ greatly from our hopes.
When considering the weight we put on these relationships and memories, another concern creeps in: what happens to the moments themselves if we focus too much on cultivating them as future “core memories”? Isn’t this trying too hard? In the rush to curate the perfect Instagrammable moment, we might miss actually being present in the here and now.
I think of core memories like cats: they’re more likely to come to you when you take a laidback approach. If you chase after them desperately, they might slip out of reach. It’s not about erasing the attempt to create beautiful moments—by all means, plan a grand gesture or expend extra energy! But do it for the sake of creating happiness, not just saving a happy memory for later.
You know what’s funny? Some of my fondest core memories stemmed from what I can only classify as “lazy parenting.” (Is there even such a thing?) Think “Movie Night.” Every Friday evening, my mom would spread a picnic blanket in the living room, whip up a simple meal for my three siblings and me (hello, hot dogs!), and plop in a VHS for us to enjoy. We’d savor our treat dinner, relish the late bedtime, all while getting lost in a story—perhaps *Back to the Future* or *Indiana Jones*.
Years later, I asked my mom about those cherished Friday nights. With a laugh, she admitted, “I did that because I was exhausted by Friday. Cooking felt like uphill work, and honestly, I just wanted to unwind for a few hours before the weekend.”
Yet, that so-called lack of effort became the genesis for my own family tradition. Since my kids were toddlers, I’ve embraced our own Movie Night rituals. Every Friday, that same picnic blanket comes out, and I whip together some (definitely not gourmet) mac and cheese. We choose a movie, and once dinner is devoured, my children will snuggle up on my lap, giggling as they watch *Bob’s Burgers* or re-experience their hundredth viewing of *Clue*.
Will these evenings turn into the fuzzy core memories I hope for them to be? Perhaps, perhaps not. But you know what? I’ve come to realize that creating these moments can also result in core memories for *me*. And here’s the kicker: I couldn’t plan for them at all.
At the end of the day, parenting isn’t just about the memories we engineer for our children; it’s about the connections, laughter, and everyday moments we share along the way. Even on a lazy Friday night with a simple meal and a movie, magic has a funny way of happening when we just let things unfold naturally.
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