My daughter was four years old, standing on a soccer field, absolutely miserable. The shin guards, the drills, being away from us – none of it was working. My husband and I were genuinely stressed about it. Were we raising a kid who couldn’t handle being on a team? Was she going to struggle with other kids? We spiraled the way parents do.
And then out came the juice boxes and cheez-its. She was first in line. Fully present. Zero complaints.
My son was a different story. Natural athlete, had a great arm in baseball, kept up with everyone. And he wasn’t interested in going back after a few seasons. We signed him up again anyway. He showed up but he made it clear he was done – and we eventually got the message.
Fast forward several years. My daughter loves her extracurricular interests – theatre rehearsals, an art class, running, or piano and voice – she cannot wait! My son throws on his tae kwon do uniform without being told and launches himself out of the car. He does the same with tennis. These kids are not white-knuckling it. They are, genuinely, completely, in their element.
We helped them get there by paying attention, trying things, and actually moving on when something wasn’t a fit. No guilt. And they made it easy, because they never hid how they felt. They told us, loudly and clearly, exactly what they needed.
When did WE stop doing that?
Somewhere between childhood and right now, most of us got really quiet about what isn’t working. We stopped saying it out loud. We started calling it maturity, or professionalism, or just “this is how it is.” We confused grinding through something that doesn’t fit with being committed. And a lot of us have been sitting in the wrong environment, the wrong role, the wrong team, the wrong pace, for years, convincing ourselves that discomfort is just part of the deal.
Yes, bills are real! Responsibilities are real! I’m not suggesting you quit everything and go find your inner child on a yoga retreat. But I am asking you this: when is the last time you leaped out of the car like my son? When is the last time you showed up somewhere and felt, without having to convince yourself, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be?
Your kids are watching you. And more importantly, you’re watching them doing the exact thing you keep telling yourself you’ll figure out “someday.”
You haven’t lost the ability to know what fits. I think you’ve just probably gotten really good at talking yourself out of it.
So here’s your homework: notice what feels like shin guards. And start paying attention to where you’d be first in line for the juice box.
Want to actually do something about it? Let’s talk.