When my oldest daughter Shae was three, I enrolled her in a summer gymnastics and dance program. She was very excited to start the classes and have the opportunity to meet kids her age. I was thrilled with the studio I had chosen when I saw how professionally they ran the first class. I was in the hallway, inhaling the sweet scent of stale athletic socks, crowded around the viewing window with all the other beaming parents. The little girls were broken into three groups and rotated among instructors teaching tumbling, balance beam and the uneven bars.
Shae loved the first class and we were both excited to head back the second week. Then.......it happened. Shae's group rotated to the uneven bars. I watched as my little sweetheart refused to flip over the bar. She would hang from the bar, push up and hold herself in flipping position with the help of Mr. Ron, the coach. But I watched in horror as Mr. Ron gently talked to her and encouraged her to take the next step and let him flip her over the bar and her ponytail bounced cutely from side to side as she refused. That was when I noticed the little snickers from some of the other parents. I was mortified. My little darling was not flipping over the bar and all the other little kids were. I was sure she had to be smarter than at least 99% of them...I just didn't understand.
Every class, she would tumble and cartwheel and back bend and balance on the beam but she would NOT flip. As the weeks passed I started dreading the moment that Shae would approach the bar and all eyes would be on me. I begged with her, I pleaded, I reasoned, I bribed. I told her bedtime stories about a beautiful princess who was afraid to flip over a bar but overcame her fear to win the heart of the handsome prince and to live happily ever after. At that point I realized I was losing it! This bar thing was making me crazy. Why did I give a damn whether or not my child flipped over the bar?
When the answer came, it startled me. It made me feel like a failure and like one of "those" mothers I promised myself I would never become. I was embarrassed because she wouldn't flip. I felt judged for it. It was the first time I was confronted with the fact that the fruit of my loins wasn't perfect and might not be great or even good at everything she tried. I was appalled with myself. I did not want to be a mother who lived through her children. I didn't want my daughters growing up afraid to try things because they might look foolish or not be the best. I wanted Shae to enjoy the class. I wanted her to experience joy at tumbling and running and trying new things. I didn't want her to worry about her ability or inability at the age of three.
Needless to say, I changed my approach. I embraced my sweet little Shae and her refusal to flip. I told her she didn't have to flip. I told her to enjoy the parts of the class she liked and felt comfortable with and not to worry about anything because no one would make her do anything she was uncomfortable with. The next class was wonderful. Shae wasn't worried and neither was I. When she approached the bars and firmly shook her head no, I laughed out loud! I laughed because it felt wonderful for the class to finally be about Shae discovering something new rather than my bragging rights over my future gold medalist.
After I finished laughing, and giggling and grinning, giddy over my parental breakthrough, something amazing happened. "Good for her" shouted one mom! "I wish Lisa was that self-assured at this age," said another. Soon almost every parent in the room had echoed that sentiment and the act of defiance that had made me feel like a loser had suddenly been transformed to a huge pat on the back. I was, after all, raising an exceptional child. Since I did learn something from the experience, I decided to enjoy my newfound popularity, but only for a moment. I turned to the viewing window and smiled at my daughter. I was so proud of her......just because she was mine.
