I usually think of mindfulness as a tool to be used in times of stress or anxiety, but I had a new insight this weekend when my husband and I took our daughters to an amusement park. The girls are only four and two, so we went to a park for young children. I know my daughters very well. I know that my older girl tends to be a bit anxious, and she’s not super brave — traits she inherited from me. My baby is a bit more adventurous, but she’s only two. She’s little, and she often follows her sister’s lead. Despite all of this, I decided we’d spend the day going on every single ride in the park.

The girls happily hopped on the mini-train that chugs slowly around the perimeter of the park, past almost every single attraction. As soon as we got on, my big girl very quickly and loudly announced that she would not, in fact, be going on any of the other attractions. Her sister happily agreed.

I was heartbroken.

I spent the rest of the train ride working myself into a minor hissy fit. I alternated between convincing myself that there was no way we could possibly have fun if the girls refused to ride the spinning tea cups, and remembering my own childhood, much of which was spent on the sidelines of various activities. I quickly became obsessed with the idea that I had to get my girls on those rides.

We started slowly, with a turn on the antique cars. I felt a huge amount of pride and success when I was able to get each girl to “drive” around the short track. Things were looking up, and I spent the next several minutes talking up the carousel, repeatedly encouraging my daughters to ride the pretty horses. I reminded them that there were even sparkly pink horses, and if they didn’t want a horse, they could sit on a bench, which didn’t move at all and was much less scary. I asked, and then I asked again.

If the girls had nagged me the same way, I would have put them in time out. Then I realized I was the one who needed a time out.

My mind was so busy worrying about the future, about whether or not we could possibly have a good day, and remembering the past, the times when I wasn’t brave, that I was missing the fun we were already having. When I finally got out of my own head, I realized that the girls were having a great time exploring Heidi’s cottage in the woods and watching animatronic vegetables sing Old MacDonald. We rode in a pumpkin carriage to Cinderella’s castle, and helped row a pirate ship around a small pond.

Even though we didn’t join our friends on the roller coaster, the twirling turtles, or the flying wooden shoes, we had a terrific day. But it wasn’t until I took a few deep breaths, and focused my attention on what was actually happening that I was able to enjoy it. I stopped asking them if they wanted to go on rides, and I let them tell me.

As I reflected on the day, I realized that I spend so much of my parenting energy dealing with things that only exist in my head. I want my girls to grow up to be the best possible version of themselves, and I want to make sure they don’t deal with any of the same problems I had as a child. While these are lofty goals, I can’t control the future anymore than I can change the past. Much of what I worry about on a daily basis is, well, ridiculous. Take our day at the amusement park—I was so worried they might not have fun watching their friends go on all the rides because I was remembering my childhood, not because of my how my girls actually felt. They had a great time waving at everyone going around and around the carousel. I got so fixated going on all of the rides, but as I think about it, who really cares if my kids enjoy roller coasters? It’s not like they’ll be better or worse people, more or less successful, happier, healthier, whatever, if they go up in a ferris wheel or not. It really doesn’t matter. (Not to mention that they’re still young; they could grow up to be daredevils yet!)

What does matter is that I was finally able to stay present with my daughters, with their experience, rather than spending the day lost in my own thoughts. It took me awhile, but I’m glad I finally did. Now the trick is to keep doing it on a regular basis.