Happy Independence Day!

I was the first among my friends to have children. I had no one to talk to about parenting. The internet was still in its infantile stages and social media was just budding in 2003. I turned to chat rooms and online forums to bounce questions. I read books and articles with a highlighter in hand. I would go to the pediatrician’s office with a printed-out list of questions. I was trying my hardest to be the very best mom I could be and at the same time quickly realizing there is no manual or guidebook on how to achieve that. It took nearly two decades of trial,error, mistakes,apologies, patience and more love than I thought anyone had the capacity to give for me to discover that there is no way to be the best parent. There is no absolute right way and there is no map. Every situation, every home and every child is different. I realize now that the best I can do is listen, love and try my best.

Once upon a time in the summer of 2008- I thought I was trying my best. I had signed my three-year-old up for soccer. I have never played soccer. I have never played any sport, to be honest. However, so many of my daughter’s preschool pals were enrolling so I just thought it was the thing to do. I was overjoyed shopping for all the uniform pieces. I made little bows that matched both her jerseys. I bought her a water bottle and hand painted her name on the side. I laid out the tiny uniform on the guest bed and it stayed there on display for a week. I tried my very best to get her excited for her first practice. I bought a soccer book and was determined to play the part of sports mom. The first practice was at 8am on a Saturday. About five minutes into getting ready I realized the day may not go as I imagined. There were tears, from both of us. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to wear the bows. She hated the water bottle. Frustrated, I pulled the mom card. We went, she wore the bows and she held her water bottle. They were doing little practice drills and my kid looked at me from across the field with a “do I have to do this” written all over her tiny face. I pulled the mom card. Yes, we were doing this. Every practice was like this, and the games were worse. Soccer was not her thing, and it was very quickly evident it wasn’t mine either. I dreaded those Saturdays, but I played the mom card. We went, and we participated. On one hand, we had started something, and we needed to finish.  Right? We owed it to the team….didn’t we? On the other hand, we were both miserable. I was also having to bring along a four-month-old infant to all of these practices and games in the hot Texas summer sun. We were not getting anything out of it, and it felt as though we were sacrificing so much of our weekend-for what? After a month of giving, it our best, we met the coach before practice and told him that sadly we were not going to be there that day or any other day. I thanked him for all his patience and efforts. I gave him donuts. I apologized. I felt so bad. My daughter was elated. It was over. No more soccer.

I worried that I taught her a terrible lesson. I worried for years that I taught her to quit. Now, looking back I realize that I taught her a very valuable lesson and it wasn’t a bad one. It is okay that you don’t like something. It is okay to say so. It is okay to say no and walk away.  Like all parenting lessons, not everyone will agree. Some may say that I should have finished out the season and finished what we started. However, I think back to that donut in the car on the way home from that last practice and the conversation. “Well, now we know”, my daughter said from her car seat. “Now we know what?” I replied. “Now we know it is okay to not like something and say so”. Lesson learned. For both of us. 

If I had a time machine or a magic postal service, I would send an open letter back to 2003 addressed to myself. I would tell myself not to worry about saving up to buy that diaper bag- I would revert back to a purse within a year. I would tell myself not to stay up late worrying about breast feeding verses bottle feeding and just know that my child would be fed. I would tell myself that they may not like soccer, or dance, or tennis or swimming or any of the things that I dreamed they would. I would tell myself not to compare them with anyone. I would tell myself that they will grow into someone that I can’t even begin to imagine, and it will be delightful to watch.  I would tell myself that seeing them becoming who they are will be the joy of my life. I would tell myself that if I listen, love and try my best then that will be enough. I will be enough. I will make mistakes and still be enough. 

Happy parenting, y’all!