We Quit Everything. Here's What Happened.

It was a Tuesday night.

I was driving my 9-year-old to soccer while simultaneously helping my 12-year-old with algebra homework over speakerphone, eating a protein bar for dinner, and mentally reviewing whether I'd paid for next month's piano lessons.

We were late. Again.

My son asked from the backseat: 'Mom, can we just go home?'

I snapped. 'We can't just go home. You have practice. This is your commitment.'

He went quiet for a minute. Then: 'I didn't choose this commitment. You did.'

He was right.

So we went home.

And over the next two weeks, we quit everything.

The Schedule That Broke Us

Let me paint the picture of what our family's week looked like:

Monday: Soccer practice (6-7:30pm)

Tuesday: Piano lessons (4pm), homework tutoring via Zoom (7pm)

Wednesday: Soccer practice again

Thursday: Art class (5-6:30pm)

Friday: Usually collapse, but sometimes we'd schedule playdates to 'maintain social connections'

Saturday: Soccer games (all morning), piano practice (afternoon)

Sunday: Catch-up day for homework we didn't have time for during the week

This wasn't unusual. This was standard for most families in our neighborhood.

When I mentioned feeling overwhelmed, other parents would say, 'Oh, that's nothing. Wait until they're teenagers.'

As if the solution to drowning is to accept you'll drown deeper later.

The Financial Reality

Here's what we were spending monthly:

• Soccer (club level): $350
• Piano: $200
• Tutoring: $400
• Art class: $180
• Gas driving to all of it: ~$100
• Fast food because we never had time for real dinners: ~$300

Total: $1,530 per month. $18,360 per year.

For activities my kids didn't even choose.

We weren't rich. I was working extra hours to afford this.

Which meant less time with my kids.

So I could pay for things that took more time away from my kids.

The math wasn't mathing.

The Quitting

I told my husband we were done. All of it.

He looked at me like I'd suggested we move to Mars.

'What about their college applications?'

'They're 9 and 12.'

'But everyone says you need to show commitment. Stick with something. They can't just quit.'

'Watch them.'

I sent the emails that night:

Dear Coach, we're stepping away from soccer.

Dear piano teacher, we're taking a break.

Dear tutoring service, please cancel our subscription.

The responses were telling.

Most said some version of: 'I understand. So many families are burning out. Good for you.'

No one fought to keep us.

Because everyone knows this is unsustainable.

We just don't talk about it.

Week One: The Panic

The first week was weird.

We had... time.

Weird, empty pockets of time.

Tuesday at 6pm rolled around and we were just... home.

My 9-year-old kept asking, 'What are we supposed to be doing?'

I said, 'Nothing. Whatever you want.'

He looked panicked.

Turns out, my kids had forgotten how to have unstructured time.

They'd forgotten how to be bored.

Week Two: The Boredom

'I'm bored.'

I heard this approximately 47 times in week two.

My instinct was to fix it. Suggest activities. Turn on a screen.

Instead, I said: 'Yeah, boredom sucks. Sit with it. See what happens.'

They hated me.

But I held the line.

Because here's what I'd learned: boredom is not a problem to solve. It's a necessary stage before creativity.

Kids don't create when they're stimulated.

They create when they're understimulated and desperate for something to do.

Week Three: The Fort

Week three is when it happened.

My 9-year-old built a fort.

Not a Pinterest-perfect fort with fairy lights and color-coordinated pillows.

A fort made of every couch cushion in the house, duct tape, and pure determination.

It was hideous.

It blocked the entire living room.

And he was so proud.

He spent three hours on it. Then invited his sister in. They played some elaborate game involving dragons and a quest for invisible treasure.

I sat in the kitchen, listening to them laugh, and realized:

I hadn't heard them play like this in years.

Maybe ever.

Week Four: The Conversation

One night at dinner (we were having dinners now, actual sit-down dinners), my 12-year-old said:

'I think I want to learn guitar.'

My husband perked up. 'Great! I'll find a teacher.'

'No,' she said. 'I want to teach myself. From YouTube.'

Six weeks later, she can play three chords and has written a very bad song about her feelings.

It's the best thing I've ever heard.

Because she chose it.

And the mistakes? Those are hers too.

What We Gained

Time.

Obvious, but profound.

We have time to cook. To eat together. To talk about nothing.

Time for my son to spend 45 minutes reorganizing his Pokemon cards.

Time for my daughter to stare out the window and daydream.

Time to be a family instead of a logistics operation.

Money.

That $1,530/month? We put half in savings. Used the rest to reduce my work hours.

Now I'm home when they get off the bus.

This matters more than piano lessons ever did.

Energy.

I'm not exhausted every night.

Neither are they.

We're sleeping better. Fighting less.

Turns out, constant rushing makes everyone irritable.

Who knew.

Creativity.

This is the big one.

When kids have unstructured time, they fill it.

My son has started writing stories.

My daughter built a terrarium in a jar.

They invented a game called 'Floor is Lava but with More Rules.'

None of this would have happened if they were busy.

Connection.

We talk now.

Real conversations, not car-ride debriefs about what happened at practice.

My daughter told me about a friendship conflict she's navigating.

My son showed me a drawing he made.

These are small things.

But they're everything.

The Pushback

Not everyone was supportive.

My mother-in-law: 'What about socialization?'

My neighbor: 'Won't they fall behind?'

Another parent: 'But how will they get into college?'

Here are my answers:

Socialization: They see friends at school. They text. They bike to each other's houses (revolutionary concept). They're fine.

Falling behind: Behind what? Behind kids who are stressed and overscheduled? They're reading more. Playing more. They seem ahead to me.

College: They're 9 and 12. And honestly? If a college won't take them because they didn't do club soccer in elementary school, I don't want them at that college.

What We Didn't Quit

I should be clear: we didn't go full hermit.

We kept:

• School (obviously)
• Family dinners
• Reading before bed
• Chores (they have responsibilities)
• Limits on screen time (though we're more relaxed about it now)

What we quit was the performance of productivity.

The idea that childhood is resume-building.

The Guilt

Some days I still feel guilty.

Am I ruining their future by not keeping them in activities?

Should my daughter be in advanced math tutoring?

What if my son had real soccer talent and I'm squandering it?

But then I watch them play.

Really play. Not performing play for an audience or a coach.

Just... playing.

And the guilt fades.

The Other Families

Here's what surprised me:

Once word got out that we'd quit everything, other parents started asking questions.

Quiet questions. Like they were confessing something.

'How did you do it?'

'Did your kids freak out?'

'Do you think we could...?'

Within three months, two other families in our neighborhood had dropped at least half their activities.

One family went full zero like us.

They invited us over last week. Their kids and our kids played outside for three hours.

No structure. No supervision. Just kids being kids.

The parents sat on the porch and actually talked.

It felt revolutionary.

And also completely normal.

What the Research Says

I finally looked up the research on overscheduling.

Turns out, there's data:

• Kids in highly structured environments show decreased executive function (the brain skills that help with planning, focus, and self-regulation)
• Unstructured play is critical for developing creativity and problem-solving
• Downtime allows the brain to process and consolidate learning
• Overscheduled kids show higher rates of anxiety and depression

So science backs what my gut was telling me.

Less is actually more.

The Toy Purge

Once we'd conquered the schedule, we tackled the stuff.

My kids had too many toys. So many that they played with none of them.

We did a purge.

Donated 75% of their toys.

Kept the Legos, art supplies, books, and a few favorites.

You know what happened?

They started playing with what was left.

Because they could see it. Access it. Make choices.

Before, their rooms were overwhelming.

Now, they're usable.

Minimalism isn't about deprivation.

It's about removing obstacles to actually using what you have.

What Changed in School

Interestingly, school got easier.

Not because the work changed.

But because my kids had the bandwidth to do it.

When you're not rushing from activity to activity, homework at 8pm doesn't feel impossible.

My 12-year-old's grades actually improved.

Not because of tutoring.

But because she had time to think.

The Question I Keep Getting

'What do you DO all that time?'

Honestly?

Not much.

We go to the library.

We cook dinner.

We play board games.

We take walks.

The kids play in the backyard.

We have family movie nights.

It's boring by Instagram standards.

But it's ours.

The Lesson About 'Commitment'

I was worried my kids were learning to be quitters.

But here's what I've realized:

There's a difference between teaching commitment and teaching compliance.

Compliance is: 'You signed up, so you have to finish, even if you hate it.'

Commitment is: 'I choose to keep doing this hard thing because it matters to me.'

My daughter's self-taught guitar? That's commitment.

She practices because she wants to.

Not because I'm driving her to lessons.

Six Months In

It's been six months.

We haven't gone back to anything.

No activities. No structured sports. No paid classes.

My kids are:

• Sleeping better
• Fighting less with each other
• Reading more
• Creating more
• Complaining less
• Smiling more

Am I worried they're 'behind'?

No.

Because I no longer believe there's a race.

What I'd Tell Other Parents

If you're drowning in the schedule, know this:

You can stop.

The world will not end.

Your kids will not be ruined.

In fact, they might thrive.

Start small if you need to:

• Drop one activity
• Have one night per week with nothing scheduled
• Say no to the next 'opportunity'

Or go big like we did.

Quit everything.

See what happens when your family has space to breathe.

The Permission You're Looking For

You don't owe anyone an explanation.

You don't need to justify prioritizing rest over resume-building.

You don't need to apologize for wanting your evenings back.

Your kids are growing up.

Every Tuesday night they're at soccer is a Tuesday night you don't get back.

Maybe soccer is worth it.

Maybe it's not.

But you get to decide.

Not the coach. Not the college admissions myths. Not the other parents.

You.

What We're Doing Instead

Last week, we started a new tradition.

Family Game Night. Every Friday.

No phones. No TV. Just us.

We played Uno until my son figured out he could hide cards under the table.

(He got caught. We talked about cheating. He cried. We hugged. He learned.)

No organized activity can teach that lesson.

Because the lesson isn't about Uno.

It's about being human.

With people you love.

Who have the time to notice when you're cheating.

The Best Part

You know what the best part is?

My kids are bored sometimes.

And I no longer panic about it.

Boredom isn't the enemy.

It's the space where childhood actually happens.

---

If You're Considering the Slow Parenting Shift

Ask yourself:

• Who chose this schedule? You or your kids?
• What would change if you dropped one activity?
• What does your family lose by being so busy?
• What could you gain by doing less?

Try this:

• Pick one week. Clear the schedule. See what happens.
• Notice how your kids fill the time.
• Notice how you feel.
• Then decide.

Remember:

• You're not ruining your children by letting them have downtime.
• College admissions officers care more about passion than padding.
• The schedule you have is a choice. You can unchoose it.

Childhood is short.

The schedule is not worth it.