I vividly recall one of our last family dinners as a group of six at a restaurant—and it was an experience I’d rather forget. My two oldest children had earned some reward certificates from school for a complimentary meal at a local eatery. After much pleading, we finally relented and headed out early one Saturday evening, anticipating a fun time.
Securing a table for six took longer than expected, even though we arrived at an unreasonably early hour. The hostess managed to squeeze us into a booth meant for four.
Before we knew it, the chaos began. Within five minutes, a group of servers erupted into a loud rendition of the restaurant’s signature birthday song nearby, complete with a cupcake and a candle. My husband was oblivious, focused instead on our preschooler, who was in full meltdown mode due to the noise.
Desperate for peace, we pulled out a bag of art supplies we kept in the car. This distraction lasted all of three minutes. It quickly turned into a ruckus as my child with sensory sensitivities found the wooden underside of the booth to be a perfect place to bang his shoes. Meanwhile, the others squabbled over who got to use the only black crayon.
To make matters worse, we were seated right next to the mid-point station where servers chatted about annoying customers, adding to the chaotic atmosphere. The décor was overwhelming—a collection of random objects and car models hung above us like a giant mobile, while 90s country music blared from the speakers.
And can we talk about how every restaurant seems to have a big-screen TV every few feet? It’s awkward when you can’t tell if the patrons beside you are watching your kids or the screen above your head. The server finally arrived with glasses of water but forgot lids for the kids’ cups—cue the inevitable spills.
After a long wait, our meals arrived lukewarm and underwhelming. My kids, claiming they were “done eating,” began to argue over salt and pepper shakers while I rushed to finish a meal that tasted more like bland cafeteria fare than anything gourmet. The bill was steep, and we left the restaurant amid a chorus of whining and snack requests.
That was three years ago, and since then, we’ve largely avoided family dinners out. Honestly, it feels like a Herculean task I’d rather skip. Some might call me a fun-killer, but I simply don’t have the energy or patience for family meals at restaurants anymore.
As my kids have grown older and a bit more mature, the challenges remain. Dining out with a family of six can be incredibly pricey, especially when my older kids can consume adult portions. Even without extras like appetizers or drinks, the bill can be shocking. Plus, how many times have my kids ordered something, only to push it aside after two bites, claiming they didn’t like it?
I can prepare meals at home for a fraction of the cost. Not only that, but my older kids are more responsible now—they help with meal prep, setting the table, and cleaning up. It’s a win-win.
With summer in full swing, friends often invite us to outings like the zoo or children’s museums, but I always decline. The crowds, the heat, and the costs are just too much. I know the reality: we’d likely be miserable within the first half-hour.
Taking kids to a designated entertainment space often turns into a saga of chaos. After finally getting everyone out the door—following several last-minute potty breaks and squabbles—there’s the inevitable fight over snacks upon arrival. The kids find the concession stand first, demanding overpriced nachos and colorful drinks, while they ignore the activities we came for. It’s a cycle that’s exhausting and frustrating.
Instead, I’ve found that my kids can have just as much fun playing in our front yard with sprinklers and popsicles. They can learn just as much from library books about animals or space. I want them to understand that outings to restaurants or museums should be special occasions, not frequent events.
To navigate family outings without the collective stress, my husband and I have started taking our kids on individual dates. They choose the place, and we give them our full attention. Whether enjoying gourmet ice cream or playing mini-golf, each child feels valued and heard.
Staying in for meals and entertainment has become our preferred routine, and my kids are certainly not missing out. They’re thriving, even without the chaos of family outings.
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In Summary
Family outings can be challenging and often lead to more stress than enjoyment. Finding alternative ways to bond, such as individual dates with each child or engaging in fun activities at home, can create a more fulfilling experience without the chaos of large outings.