Watching my little boy play sports is like having an out-of-body experience. He is – at least physically – me. Three paces behind the other children on his two left feet.
But it’s there that our similarities end. While my body physically responds (think sweat and hot cheeks) to the memory of anxiety and shame, he just grins and giggles. He is innocent and free from the burden of self-consciousness.
Since becoming a mom, I’ve found that parenting is a lot of either trying to replicate something magical or avoid something traumatic, from my own childhood. When it comes to athletics, there is only trauma. I didn’t get to try sports or dance as a young child. So by the time I was exposed to athletics in grade school, it was too late. My left feet and deep insecurities won out. It took 25 years to grow into myself. Which, for me meant both discovering my athletic strengths and moving beyond what others thought.
I want something different for my sons. Not necessarily that they excel at sports, but that they have the opportunity to try – and possibly fail – at many different sports and activities without fear and shame. That they become grounded in a strong sense of self, and self-belief, at an early age, to sustain them through the rough and unforgiving adolescent years.
But, I’m racing the clock. These days, four-year-olds have actual moves, on the soccer field, karate mat, and even the swimming pool. Kids are picking their “specialty” earlier and earlier as their parents start savings accounts for travel sports leagues. You have to be good – like, really, good – by first grade to have a chance to play high school sports. How long will it be until my little boy realizes that he isn’t good, or, more importantly, until he cares that he isn’t good?
Ultimately, I recognize that the best I can do is give him the opportunities that I didn’t have, be his greatest champion, and avoid transferring my anxieties and insecurities to him. We aim to balance trying a variety of activities to discover what makes him happy, with that critical unstructured “play” time that will all too soon come to an end.
And so there I am, on the sidelines of the various activities, he’s testing. My heart pounding as he prepares to do something new and difficult. Wait for it, wait for it…then deep breath out as he completes it…and pure joy as he cackles with glee and runs to me for a high five. How deeply moving to watch that little boy in this magical, innocent, and fleeting stage – still willing to ask the coach for help, to seek public love from mommy, and, to try, and try, and try again.
I loved reading this post, and I think all of us can agree, we hold our breaths until we hear their little screams of joy when trying something new !
Love this post and hope you have many more years of high fives ahead before they realize they are too cool for us hahah