When you're too stressed to be fun
There I was, floating down the Clark Fork River in Montana, life jacket cinched tight, already worried about where this was headed. Would I be stuck on this boat for hours? Would I fall out and meet an ornery snake? Would the intense Missoula sun leave me overheated and miserable? I was visiting my Instagram bestie Nici on her home turf.
I felt anxious about the unknown, focused on survival rather than enjoyment. When we had first stopped at the fly fishing shop to pick up tackle, I stood overwhelmed by walls of tiny colorful lures—there seemed to be a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and I didn't know any of it.
Meanwhile, Nici was Montana committed to hard work and hard play. She and her husband set Mr. Van Geffen up on the bow of the raft, steadying him with a stream of instruction on casting and baiting the hook. An hour into the “float” she jumped into the icy river water and rolled on her back, letting the sun warm her glorious form. Watching her play calmed my nerves. Nothing was expected of me.
Minutes after she pulled herself back in the raft, her husband shouted, “Woah! You got something!”.
The line was pulled underwater, and everyone started screaming with excitement. Except me. I felt constricted in my life jacket—I couldn't turn around. Nikki began scrambling toward the back of the boat to video, but she had to unclip herself first. "Here," she said, thrusting her phone at me, "record it while I unhook myself."
"Record what?" I asked, my irritation evident.
She laughed. "Your husband - catching his first fish!"
Sometimes we're like that with our Spicy Ones. So fixated on not falling out of the boat—not losing control, not dealing with meltdowns, not getting stuck in endless negotiations—that we miss the pure joy happening right in front of us.
When my husband finally pulled in that beautiful trout, he was proud and joyful. I could see the 8-year-old boy he once was on his beaming face, and I realized something profound: my only assignment was to witness and celebrate with him. I didn't have to engage in the play. I didn't have to fish. I didn't have to feign enjoyment at something I didn't particularly like. I just had to witness his excitement with affection.
The Permission You've Been Waiting For
Maybe you're reading this while exhausted. Maybe the idea of getting on the floor to play feels overwhelming. Maybe you worry that playing with your Spicy One will lead somewhere you can't handle.
Here's what I learned floating down that lazy river: sometimes the most healing thing we can offer our children isn't our best performance—it's our simple presence.
Your Spicy One doesn't need you to be the entertainment director. They need you to be the loving witness to their world. When you're too tired for elaborate play, your calm attention becomes the gift. When you can't muster energy for active participation, your genuine interest in what they're creating, building, or discovering can be enough. Your Spicy One's imagination doesn't need your input—it needs your appreciation.
Three Lazy Play Ideas That Just Might Work
When you're running on empty but want to connect, try these low-energy approaches that let your child do most of the work:
For Younger Spicy Ones (3-7 years): "I'm feeling a little tired today. Would you like to be the doctor and check on me?" Lie down while they examine you with a toy stethoscope or soup can from the pantry, take your temperature, and prescribe treatments. Ask questions: "What do you think is wrong with me, doctor?" "What medicine should I take?" Your curiosity fuels their play while you literally rest.
For School-Age Spicy Ones (6-12 years): Practice the art of "play narration." Settle nearby while they build, draw, or create, and every once in a while, describe what you notice: "I see you've made the tower really tall on this side" or "You're being so careful with those colors." This isn't praise or direction—it's witnessing. Your attention becomes the fuel for their creativity. But don't overdo it. Silence is golden.
For Any Age: Side-by-side activities where you can rest while they work. Pull out a coloring book or a simple craft for yourself and invite them to join you. You're together, but the pressure is off both of you to perform or entertain. Some of the sweetest conversations happen when hands are busy and expectations are low.
Creating Space is Enough
Watching Nici float on her back in that Montana river, completely present to the sun and water, I understood something about play I hadn’t noticed before. Sometimes our role isn't to join the play—it's to create space for it. To appreciate it. To celebrate it when it happens. I did so by taking this picture:
Her adorable bikini can be found HERE
Your Spicy One has an inner world that's rich and complex. When you're too tired to direct or organize, you allow an opening for them to show you who they really are. This isn't lazy parenting—it's intentional presence.
Ready to Stay Calm While They Play?
Sometimes the hardest part of lazy play isn't the low energy—it's staying calm, kind, and firm when your Spicy One's play gets intense. If you need help with the basics of maintaining your center while they express their big emotions and creative energy, Summer School is here for you.
For the start of the season, Summer School is $30 off, giving you practical tools to stay grounded so you can truly witness and celebrate your child's authentic self—even when they're being extra spicy.
And if you need a quick reset right now, download our free "Lighten Up to Connect" guide. Sometimes the best play happens when we stop taking everything so seriously.
Download Lighten Up to Connect - Free PDF
Your assignment isn't to be the perfect playmate. It's to be the loving witness to the incredible human you're raising. Even when you're hanging on for dear life, headed down the moving river, you can still celebrate the trout when it gets caught.
That's enough. You're enough.
Rooting for you,
Mary