When Did Fun Become Something We Have to Earn?

At the end of August, I bought myself a season pass to a theme park’s Halloween event.

I was excited. I love Halloween, and I loved the thought of having something on my calendar that was just for fun.

Then the guilt showed up.

How could I spend money on a season pass for myself when I sometimes have to tell my kids no to things?

I almost talked myself out of it. I started looking for reasons it was unnecessary, because, well, it is unnecessary. It doesn’t pay a bill. It doesn’t make dinner easier or help me get ahead at work. I could have put that money toward something more practical.

But I stopped and looked at what was actually true. My bills are paid. My kids have the things they need, and they have things they want, too. Buying this pass wasn’t taking something away from them. 

I wanted it. That was the part I was having trouble accepting.

Somewhere along the way, I got used to treating my own fun and my own wants as rewards. Things I had to earn after everyone else was taken care of.

When you’re juggling work, family, and everyday responsibilities, there’s always something else you could be doing. Another expense to plan for. Another task to finish.

If I wait until there’s nothing left to do and no better use for my money, I’ll be waiting forever.

Maybe your thing isn’t a Halloween event. Maybe it’s a concert, a stack of books, art supplies, a class, or an afternoon doing absolutely nothing useful. Maybe you’ve talked yourself out of it because you couldn’t explain what you’d get out of it.

I know that feeling. Even after I decided to buy the pass, I had to remind myself that enjoying it is the point. I don’t need to turn every interest into a skill, a side hustle, or a lesson about personal growth.

I want my kids to have full lives, with room for the things that make them happy. I’m learning that I can want that for myself, too. Saying yes to this didn’t mean I’d never have to tell them no. It meant I could make a choice for myself without letting guilt make the decision for me.

So I bought the pass. I’m enjoying the Halloween stuff and letting it be fun. It’s even become a chance to bond with my oldest, which has been a lovely bonus. But when I bought it, I didn’t know that would happen. I just knew I wanted it—and that was enough.

My bills are paid. My kids are cared for. And I’m allowed to have things, too.

Even if they aren’t practical.