On Costco Car Dinners & the Magic of "Good Enough" Parenting

Today’s newsletter is for all the fellow parents doing the best they can. For anyone who needs a reminder that what is “good enough” for us may turn out to be the best part of the day for them.

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A few weekends ago we realized that we were almost out of dog food and a few other non-perishable Costco staples. We’ve really enjoyed our transition to life in the Upper Valley, less than a mile from the Connecticut River which snakes its way down the New Hampshire / Vermont border. But one (very manageable) downside of small-town living is that our closest Costco is in Burlington, a 90-minute drive away. I know this may seem insignificant, but we’re big Costco fans, so we decided to keep our membership and make quarterly trips. In my perspective, they have more affordable high-quality food than BJs or Sam’s Club, surprisingly decent clothing options for both children and adults, and an enduring commitment to inclusive and equitable practices amid immense pressure to dismantle DEI initiatives.

So we charged the kids’ audiobook player, packed a cooler with some snacks, and loaded up the car for our “Burlington Adventure Day.” Our first stop was lunch at Burlington Bagel Bakery, followed by a stroll down the pedestrian-only Church Street Marketplace. We would have all loved to stay a bit longer (I had my eye on a second-hand outdoor gear store), but we had also planned to spend some time exploring Red Rocks Park along Lake Champlain before our final stop at Costco. We did a ~2-mile loop trail, winding through tall evergreen trees, down to a rocky beach, and back up to a beautiful overlook.

They scrambled up trees, pretended to be owls, made bows and arrows out of sticks, and could have spent all afternoon “skipping rocks” at the edge of Lake Champlain. (Skipping rocks = throwing a handful of rocks at once to see the multiple ripples. ;) I have to say, I never cease to be amazed by the ingenuity of children. What a creative way to achieve the same visual effect!)

I’ve historically struggled with overestimating how much we can do in a day, and a growth area for Marcus and I has been learning to not over-fill travel/adventure days. It can be tricky for my wild-wandering-spirit-turned-generally-responsible-parent to achieve that optimal balance between an unsustainable “YOLO! Let’s play all day, pack it all in, and just try to transfer them to bed when we roll in super late at night!” approach on one end of the spectrum and unnecessarily rigid adherence to a pre-planned schedule on the other end.

Luckily for us, we had the external constraint of Costco closing at 6 pm. We arrived at 5:15 and made quick work of our list. A quarter after 6 we were loading our camping cooler with yogurt pouches, fresh and frozen berries (I can’t be the only one who underestimated before becoming a parent how much fruit tiny humans could consume), hummus, wild salmon, veggies, and more. We piled the nonperishables (pistachios, madras lentils, wild planet tuna, coffee beans, Annie’s macaroni, olive oil, hemp seeds, pasta, etc.) into boxes and began to strategize our dinner.

I quickly did the math (90 minute drive + ~20 minutes for an unexpected stop or two, because… children) and knew that making dinner after our arrival home would be unideal. So I scanned our haul and announced — in a voice with the kind of manufactured enthusiasm I’m confident every parent is fluent in —

“Ok little loves! Today is a really special day. We get to do a picnic car dinner!”

They cheered their excitement, and I began to distribute the first course, complete with an improvised description of each item, pronounced in what Juniper later described as my “fancy chef voice.”

“And for our first course, we have hand-shelled pistachios, grown in the finest region of…. [checks bag]… California! These pistachios were roasted to perfection with a light sprinkling of sea salt. Notice how each bite brings a vibrant burst of flavor…” One might have thought we were in a Michelin 5-Star restaurant, hearing the descriptions we gave to baby carrots, mandarin oranges, yogurt pouches, and coconut crisps.

With full bellies and tired bodies, Ansel fell asleep on the drive home and blessedly did not wake up during the transfer to bed. As I sat with Juniper at the kitchen table, she looked at me and said, “I had the best day mama.”

“I’m so glad, I had such a great day with you too. Did you have a favorite part?”

I saw flashes of her skipping along church street… her “cat face” and sassy meow as she climbed to the next branch of the tree… her delight at tossing rocks into the lake… the way she held her new spring Costco dress to her chest with a look of enchantment… and I wondered which one of those moments stood out to her.

“Our car picnic!” she replied without even a second of hesitation, and my heart tightened with emotion. Because in that moment, I was suddenly reminded how very little — in terms of what society often defines as important — our kids actually need to thrive.

Yes, she had fun walking around Burlington, climbing trees, skipping rocks… but what stood out to her most was our silly five course meal eaten in the car. My fancy chef voice. (This was, dear reader, the car dinner I had reframed from “complete parenting/planning failure” to “acceptable/beneficial because of what it had allowed us to do with our day.” My modified appraisal still a far cry from the highlight of the day.)

This post isn’t actually about Costco or our Burlington adventure day. It’s about “good enough” parenting. It’s about how making magic doesn’t have to look like fancy trips or brand-name clothing or perfect organization of wooden Montessori toys and beeswax crayons. As parents, we are bombarded by messages about what our kids should and shouldn’t have… how they should and shouldn’t be spending their time… the list goes on.

Many of us are also navigating financial strain and working within the constraints of tight budgets and squeezed schedules. Many of us wish we could “give more” to our kids. But the reality is, sometimes the best gifts we can give them don’t cost much money at all (unless we’re counting the therapy costs we invested in building the insight and emotion regulation skills to come to this realization…).

Sometimes all it takes is embracing “good enough” and infusing that mess with magic. Today’s newsletter is for everyone doing the best they can. For anyone who needs a reminder that what is just “good enough” for us may turn out to be the best part of the day for them.

xx,

Kimberley