so here i am at kiddie gymnastics, as i like to call it,  trying in vain to pirate their wireless service. i am thus far unsuccessful. anyway,  i haven’t been to this lovey facility since last year when my eldest took this very same class (and soon thereafter, quit it), and i am still totally creeped out by the muscular pre-pubescent boys. there is something so disconcerting about boys under ten that have 1% body-fat and 99% defined lean muscle mass. i feel like i need to avert my eyes, for fear, that merely looking is close enough to pedophilia. but it is hard not to gawk and just being in the same room with them is alarming to me. young boys should not look like a combination of a starving ethiopian & hunky fireman calendar pinup. i am used to seeing those kind of muscles on barely legal high school & college boys, not 8 year olds. plain wrong.

ok, so i am what is known as a “slacker mom” who doesn’t helicopter about every aspect of her kids’ lives, much less their activities. honestly, i find the whole activity concept to be a little overdone and a downright pain in the ass when it gets dark out at 4:30pm. so it should come as no surprise to you, gentle reader, that it is november & i have just gotten around to signing them up for anything. of course, this dreadful divorce sitch has had something to do with that. you see, in september, i gave the proper information to The Control Freak to take care of as requested and it never happened as expected. i was already behind the A-type mom ball by waiting until september to sign them up in the first place. anguished cries of ” what have you signed your kids up for?” and “have you signed your kids up yet?” and, “what, you haven’t signed your kids up yet?” had already been heard throughout the burb since early june. these hysterical over-achievers had made this vital decision immediately after the current activity ended in may. every year they buy into the, “hurry, the classes are almost full,” induced panic that these schools create. i was akin to a leper and they were looking at me like i had ruined my children’s future. “your kids aren’t doing anything?” and since fighting about every single thing with The Hat is endless, i let the whole activity issue go for a bit to foucs on other more important petty fights, like my unregulated utility usage. i reasoned, activities are not a rite of childhood passage. they are a spoiled suburban entitlement. no one is worried about cheerleading in india. i am sure over-scheduling your children after school is much less prevalent in idaho. my kids won’t be disadvantaged if they just have good old-fashioned playdates after school. kids just need to be kids i said. but, my 6 year old’s incessant cartwheeling by the edge of the steps was really fraying my nerves and i realized it was either a trip to the emergency room or sign her up for gymnastics classes. she is now training for london in 2012. plus, you know those good ol’ fashioned playdates? no one is around to play since they are all at activities.

i do worry about my eldest. she is just like me as a kid. i tried a zillion things and quit them all cause i had perfectionist issues. if i wasn’t good right away, i gave up. i compared myself to everybody else. maybe if i had stuck with one thing, and got really good at it, maybe even excelled at, and then gone to school for it, perhaps it would have led me down a different life path that inspired me to make better choices in my young life that would have had a positive effect on my current old life (i can think of one majorly bad choice in particular that is a real doozy to undo). and, as parents, of course, we all want the best for our kids. we want them to make better choices than we did or maybe even make the same successful ones. we don’t ever want to see them fall or fail or make mistakes. we want to see them excel and succeed. pride in your children can be many things to many people. pride can be the sweet kind of, “you can be anything you want in this life” pride to the insane “beating up the coach & other parents & berating your kid for being less than perfect” pride. childhood activities are great as long as your child is happy. obviously, there are many positive aspects to being involved in group activities. i watched those the boys club of america commercials in the 70′s. i am familiar with the “community center” on every ethnic sitcom. my point is, it’s not cool to force your progeny to participate in stuff they don’t really like or are not that committed to because you are vicariously living your old glory days and unfulfilled fantasies through them. and these “teams” & “competition” squads cater to that crazy competitive edge for many parents. hey, not every kid is a prodigy or an athlete. these “schools,” be it dance, cheer, or gymnastics are businesses designed to make a bundle from our vanity. billions are spent on costumes, professional photos, team gear, competition fees,  & extra “team” classes every year. it’s a huge industry & they gouge you unabashedly. i once met a woman who worked soley to pay for her daughter’s dance competitions. 100% of her paycheck to dance! just ain’t me. i remember a friend of one of my girls in pre-school being “recommended” for the gymnastic team. puh-leeze, she was three!  and i also remember watching team practice here last year & being appalled at how abusive the coach was with the teenage girls. they cried nearly every week & injured their young bodies. i would not allow my daughter to participate in that . and helloooo! the school is just using the wins & accolades to advertise to get more peeps to sign up next year. oh yes, this is the best school. yes, i know some real champions do come out of these schools, but not as many as they would have you think. i used to think that to be on “the team,” these girls must be amazing dancers and gymnasts. boy, was i naive. i have since seen many of these kids & they are terrible. sitting through the recitals is pure torture. i was never so relieved as when both of my girls decided they didn’t want to dance anymore. i had sat through a 3 hour recital & dragged my parents too. the school held the kids hostage the entire time in the back “to watch their peers.” this was so no one could leave before it was over. after that hell, the 2 bitches running the thing got on stage to extol their own virtues for 25 minutes. i remember my dad cracking jokes the whole time. he was such a good sport. in fact, if my girls now came to me and asked to try dance again, my lone school criteria would be for them not to have a recital.

i generally try to take a low pressure, laid back approach with my parenting. i don’t feel that my kids are status symbols for me of any kind, but i have to admit i have been pushing my 9 year old to “just try” art classes, because i do think she may have some talent and could develop it. not to become the next picasso, but to instill a sense of pride & confidence in herself. to have “a thing” that is hers. to have a way to relax. something to take some pride in. “yes, this is my portfolio.” i think i would have led a very different life if i had “a thing.” i was proud of my art at times, but dropped it because i felt i wasn’t good enough or perfect enough always comparing my art to another person’s work. not realizing we all have our own style in anything we do in this life, from drawing to parenting. for every person that supports you, there is another close behind trying to crush your dreams. change your ideals to conform to theirs. people feel threatened by what’s different or challenging, and  it takes a lot of strength to ignore that chatter. but as a kid, even though i thought it was the answer, trying to conform just made me more unhappy and really didn’t turn out all that well in the long run – i  did not pick up a drawing utensil again until i was trapped in a bad marriage. maybe i would have been more confident & had some interests deeper than aquanet & farlows in high school if pursued my art     (and don’t get me wrong those are 2 really solid interests and provided much enjoyment in my teen years). i will always wonder. untapped potential sucks.

so here i sit, despite the stench of sweat & feet, inhaling the clouds of chalk dust, watching my little gymnast cartwheel her heart out. her smile is huge even when she falls off the balance beam (don’t worry – she is tiny and the beam she uses if like 6 inches off the ground). i am, of course, absolutely proud of her, regardless of how she does. i am weak from how cute that teeny little tush is in that secondhand leotard. i love how proud she is of herself as she waves at me & wants me to see (“mommy, did you see me on the trampoline?”). how delicious they are at this age. the world is theirs for the taking.and honestly, my only hope is that she has fun & enjoys herself and she develops not even a talent for it, nor a love for it, but just an intense like for it. a place to go feel confident, on top of the world, & to shine in her own mind even if she doesn’t make it to london or past the top of the steps for that matter.