Our family was probably some of the only people in the WORLD that didn’t turn on a single World Cup game during the entire tournament. Instead, we dedicated three full days to America’s pastime… baseball.
No regrets.
This is one of our favorite summer traditions. Maybe one day we'll get to experience All Star Week in person. But for now? We'll pile onto the couch, grab our snacks, argue over who gets the comfy blanket, and cheer on our favorite players as if they can somehow hear us from our living room.
Watching my girls count every home run during the Derby. Watching the Sandlot tribute before the All Star Game and trying really hard not to cry (I make no promises). Sharing something Josh and I have loved for years with our girls somehow makes it even sweeter.
That's the funny thing about family traditions. They usually don't start out feeling like traditions.They're just little moments.
A baseball game on the TV while everyone talks over each other.
A familiar song playing after a Phillies win and hearing little voices suddenly belt out, "We've got hiiiiiigh hopes..." or “RING THE BELL!!!!!” from somewhere in the house.
A walk with the dogs after dinner because it's finally cooled off enough that nobody feels like they're melting.
A three-mile hike before the sun has fully climbed into the sky.
Around here, we walk... a lot.
Seriously, when we first moved to Buffalo, people would stop and ask if we needed a ride because they couldn't figure out why we were walking everywhere. We weren't stranded, we just genuinely enjoyed exploring our new town one street at a time. And something special always happens on those walks.
Those walks turned into conversations.
Those conversations turned into inside jokes.
Those inside jokes became memories that now make this place feel like home.
I think there's a temptation every summer to believe we need the big vacation. The elaborate itinerary. The theme parks. The perfectly curated Instagram photos. And don't get me wrong, I love a good adventure. (Have we met? Disney is basically one of my love languages.) And we are TOTALLY going to Yellowstone this week - for the day - yes, that means leaving at 4am and returning probably around 10pm.
But I've realized that some of our favorite family memories haven't come from the expensive trips.
They've come from ordinary Tuesday nights.
From hiking trails we've walked a dozen times.
From baseball games watched from our couch.
From spontaneous ice cream runs.
From letting the girls stay up just a little too late because the sunset was too pretty not to enjoy.
Our family has a summer bucket list every year. Some things get checked off. Some don't. But somewhere along the way I realized the bucket list isn't really the point. The point is making space to be together.
Because years from now, I don't think my girls will remember every item we crossed off a list.
I think they'll remember that our house was the one where baseball was always on.
That Mom and Dad always wanted to go for a walk … okay maybe more Mom wanted to go for a walk and Dad would graciously agree …
That Saturday mornings were for sourdough pancakes and hiking trails.
That summer felt slow enough to laugh together.
Those are the traditions that quietly become part of your family's identity. And the beautiful thing is... they don't require a passport, plane ticket, or a big city zip code. Sometimes all they require is saying yes to one more walk.
One more baseball game.
One more evening outside before bedtime.
One more late night run through the sprinkler.
One more ordinary day that, years from now, won't feel ordinary at all.
Because meaningful summers aren't built by where you go.
They're built by who you're with.
XOXO Whitney