When I was a kid my mother loved tennis, so in the hopes of sharing her love for that sport with us, we belonged to the local tennis club too, and we took Saturday morning lessons, tennis tournaments on random evenings, and tennis camps in the summer. My sister was very good at tennis. She seemed to have a sixth sense about where the ball was going and always had her racquet at exactly the right angle to return a hit.
I was not good at tennis and I hated it. I think the two were intermingled, in a self-perpetuating circle of dread. I imagine if I had been even a little bit good at it, I may not have hated it so much. But I loathed every second, so much so that I have pretty much blocked the whole 3+ year experience out of my head.
It wasn’t helped by other people/adults telling me I wasn’t trying hard enough, or that if I applied myself I would be better at it. Thing was, I didn’t want to be better at it. I thought it was a stupid and pointless game. I didn’t understand the spell that everyone else seemed to be under. I did not fit the “tennis is so great, it’s the coolest game ever invented, we love tennis, it’s the best game ever and everyone else who plays it is just as witty, sexy, and intelligent as we are” mindset, and I didn’t want to.
As a tween and then new teen I was chubby and had weird flicky hair and ran like my knees were tied together, I did not enjoy randomly sprinting around an astroturf court waving a racket at a speeding ball that the other player (or coach) was trying to kill me with. All the hours of “hold it like this,” and “follow through like that,” practice was immediately out the window when that ball was flying at my face or other body parts.
Me and tennis never had a chance.
My favorite memory of belonging to the Mission Bay Tennis Club was riding my bike along the waterfront of Auckland City to get from our home on the St Heliers/Kohi side over to Mission Bay which was where the tennis club was. It was glorious, the memories of riding my bike under the pohutukawa trees next to the sea in the morning during the summer when it wasn’t too hot with the sun bouncing off the water, are carved into my memory.
In retrospect, it gave me a love of bike riding. So, actually thanks Mum!
Once we moved from Auckland when I was 14, I never played tennis again, (which is a bummer, mainly because I spent so much time doing it – although I still love riding my bike, so there’s that) and it’s made me think long and hard about my own kid’s activities as he’s growing up. With all the cringe-inducing memories of tennis still in my mind, I did not want to do that to my own child.
It’s difficult to direct your kid/s in their extracurricular activities, but I get that it would be great if there was something you could do as a family, or at least fill them with passion for a sport or activity they could do their entire lives. Or both.
Our son was born in Vail Colorado, so learned how to ski when he was around 2. Which was great, except we moved to the beach when he was 3 and he didn’t get to ski again until we were living in the south island in New Zealand, when, at 5 the school he attended would go skiing one day a week during their winter quarter. Then we moved back to the beach for 5 years before moving to North Carolina where we are only 2 hours from a ski hill, so he’s back to that and loving it. Winning!
Obviously, though the only issues are the usual; time, and cost. (4 hours travel time + lift tickets + ski rental = about $250 per day…should never have left Colorado…insert regretful sigh)
He also plays the drums, which he loves, and is teaching himself how to play the guitar. So I’m not too concerned that he doesn’t have anything he sticks with that he enjoys. He is at the point where he can pursue music on his own, and I’m happy to hear him playing the guitar or drums in his room.
But I have tried many many other sports and activities with him over the years, continually looking for the right fit. And I tell him that, I’m not going to get caught up in guilt and whatever else if he doesn’t like something, because, like everything else as we move through life, we are just looking for the right fit. For them and us. Once we can remove our emotional attachment or expectations, we can just keep looking til we find it.
Most things he has stuck with for a little while but then stopped for one reason or another…usually because he ended up hating it and it was not the right fit. And personally, I do not see the point of forcing my kid to continue doing something I have to pay for, especially if they have been doing it for a while, like a year or two. It’s my life and free time too, and spending it arguing and catching attitude dragging someone to an activity they hate can only be tolerated for so long (turns out about 6 months) sure he may end up resigned to the activity, but that doesn’t stop the attitude and huffing and puffing under his breath about it. I do not see anything wrong with letting him stop doing things he doesn’t enjoy. What am I trying to do here anyway? Exert some mindless “just do as I say and enjoy it dammit” authority over my child? Like I was raised with? Instill the thought that he doesn’t know what he likes? Tell him his judgment concerning things he finds enjoyable or not is wrong? And we wonder why our kids get peer pressured so easily…
I have noticed, however, there is a different mindset out there, one that seems to think once a child starts something they should never quit because that makes them a quitter. And I agree, to a point, as it is easy to fall into a pattern of quitting when things get difficult. But I think it’s different when you are looking for a sport or activity that will stick with them as they move through life. I guess it depends on your intention for them as a parent.
My intention is that my son gets to experience a bunch of different things and he can draw his own conclusions. I don’t see my role as telling him what to enjoy, but to provide plenty of different experiences so he can find his own activities to enjoy. I want him to know that he can keep trying and keep looking until he finds the thing that feels right for him. I want him to have the confidence to do that in all areas of his life, for the rest of his life.
Obviously, if he can pick up useful skills along the way, that’s great too. Personally, I do not buy into the “sports” parent role I have seen so often. You know – the baseball/boy scout/martial arts/football dad, or the swim/soccer/dance/cheer mom (why are there gender roles when it comes to kid sports support too?) And their child participating in that sport is the parent’s identity. I think it’s probably because I was never good at organized sports, so that’s not my jam.
My son enjoyed baseball when he played his first season, but it was very definitely a dad sport, and they (the dads) all genuinely believed their 6 y/o was going to the major league – insert eye roll. The danger with these parents is that only a tiny percentage of their kids are actually enjoying the sport/activity. Most of the time it’s the parent who has decided that their child will enjoy this activity and spend money on it, and often I couldn’t help but notice, the kid could care less.
Sure you do come across families that support their kids in the activities they love, and it looks like a very productive family dynamic. I guess that’s what we are all aiming for.
Parenting is hard and continually evolving. That means we have to continually evolve as parents. Nothing is fixed about growing humans. Nothing. In my moments of doubt, I just have to remind myself of that.
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