Dreams Dashed

Have you ever had a dream dashed?

When I was young I swam competitively and loved it. I won most races and had my sights on being an Olympic swimmer — I had my heart set on it. I didn’t fully understand the investment of time or money that goes into making it to the Olympics, I figured if I continued to compete at the level I was it would just happen.

My family moved when I was 10 to a town that didn’t have a swim team with 30 miles of it so my Olympic dreams were dashed. I can recall being very upset with my parents that they didn’t realize the impact to me. Of course, my parents probably realized that they wanted to support me, but weren’t willing to let my love of sport guide what and where our family went next. My parents were more fully forgiven when I joined masters swimming (competitive swimming for adults) many years later and learned I had strong upper body strength but lacked the kicking strength needed to be at an elite level. In hindsight, my parents probably saved me a lot of grief, though I have wondered how far I would have gone if I’d have continued to swim in my youth.

My oldest has begged us to play tackle football since he was very young. We have said no, repeatedly, knowing the dangers of head trauma and how dangerous the sport can be. Our son never wavered. He would pitch us on why he should play, what he’d miss out on if he didn’t, and I have to admit I understood (my inner swimmer, in particular ) where he was coming from. He put a lot of effort into conditioning, even during the pandemic, and when they finally allowed students to do sports, we allowed him to join the team (with caveats, of course. A concussion will take him off the team).

He was nervous and excited about starting football. They practice daily and their first scrimmage is coming up. They are figuring out what positions the kids will play at and that has created a fracture in my son’s dreams of being a star football player. He’s played quarterback and wide receiver in flag football — very successfully in both positions. He’s grown though, and is more muscular now. He doesn’t have the arm for quarterback yet for the high school ball, isn’t running as fast as he used to and can block, but is up against guys twice his weight. After practice he came home defeated. “I suck,” he commented. “I don’t think they’re even going to play me.” I could see how devastated he was. As a parent, it’s one of those moments you wish you could take on your child’s pain for them. I reminded him that he is growing and the timing might not being aligning for him to be in ideal shape for any position now, but to keep working at it, and by fall, when sports resume, he’ll be ready. That didn’t seem to help. My husband also spoke to him and reminded him the importance of getting back up and trying again. My son’s dreams of being an star athlete are currently dashed, but we’ll continue to encourage him to not give up on himself so easily. This is a time of growth for him (mentally and physically). To see what he’s made of and capable of. I hope he sticks with this dream and sees it through and doesn’t look back one day and wonder what if.

How are you helping your child follow their dream? How are you helping them when their dream is in jeopardy?

An Olympic Impact

Are you watching the Winter Olympics with your child?

While my children normally prefer to watch cartoons, I’ve been able to slowly but surely get them to watch the Olympics with my husband and I. We started with curling and cross country skiing, I couldn’t hold their attention. Skating caught their eye, “Wow, they make it look so easy,” my oldest commented. Snowboarding, the half-pipe in particular, captured their attention. Watching Chloe Kim and Shaun White win gold was pretty amazing. Getting the kids to stay tuned beyond that has been much simpler. They are now interested in watching downhill, luge, and ski jumping. They are slowly but surely getting into the Olympics.

Of course, I’m reminded of my own Olympic dreams when I was a kid. Swimming was my sport and I just knew one day I’m make the games. I wonder what impact watching the Olympics will have on my kids. Will watching inspire them to have new Olympic dreams?

There is something special about the Olympics. You see passion, dedication, and sacrifice. You see people’s dreams come true or crashing down. It can be a roller coaster of emotions for the athlete and the viewer. What it gave me as a kid was a dream — a vision for what I could do and who I could be (Olympian) — I never made it that far, but the child in me always treasures the dream for what it was. I learned that while the athletes make their respective sports look easy, it’s the long hours of hard work, failures and getting up and trying to get better over and over again that elevates them to their elite levels, and that in life to excel and exceed you have to push yourself to be your best over and over again very much like an Olympic athlete.

I wonder what my kids will take from the Olympics.

Are your kids into the Olympics? What impact do you think the Olympics will have on them?

Better Than Gold

Have you ever struggled to do something you thought should be easy?

My youngest son has been struggling to learn to ride his bike. He got his bike last year, but we realized soon after getting it, that it was too big for him, and he’d have to grow into it. We were excited to teach him this year. We took him out and followed the same steps we’d done with his older brother. We removed the pedals, and had him work on coasting and balancing first. Then we put the pedals back on in hopes he could balance and get his feet up on the bike. He learned to coast, and even get his feet up on the pedals momentarily,  but without pedaling, the bike would tilt to one side and he would put his foot down. We kept trying to explain to him that the bike wouldn’t fall over if he started pedaling, but he didn’t believe us. He got frustrated and very upset. We even reminded him that he’d get a reward once he finally learned to ride his bike. That just seemed to make his disappointment in himself for not being able to do it worse. We abandoned bike riding that day and decided we’d try again the following, but the results were the same. He could coast, and get his feet up on the pedals, but would ultimately put a foot down without getting the bike going.  He then let out a cry of frustration, disappointment and anger. “I’ll never learn to ride my bike!” he exclaimed and broke down in tears.

My husband and I were at a loss as to what to do; did we need to get him into a biking class, get him private instruction, or get him a different bike?  I thought about how I learned. I didn’t appreciate how quickly I picked it up as a kid. I learned within an hour of my father and sister teaching me. I hadn’t struggled for long, and here was my son struggling for days on end. He desperately wanted to be successful, and was getting down on himself. We could tell that we had to figure out how to help him, or risk having him decide that there are some things in life he just can’t do (and that was *not* acceptable to my husband or I).

After two weeks of daily practice without success, I had an idea. What if one of us held the back wheel steady and gave him a push so he could pedal and get the feel of the bike in motion?  We got our son up on the bike and he could push for a rotation or two, but when the bike leaned, he would put his foot down. He was frustrated, but we could tell he understood now what we’d been trying to explain. He tried again and again. Sometimes going a couple of rotations, sometimes not making it even one. We encouraged him not to give up, that he was very close. He got up on the bike again, holding the back wheel steady, he started to turn the pedals. One rotation, two rotations, three, four, five, and the bike kept going. He rode across the lot away from us. He got to a place where the pavement started to go back up and stopped himself. He turned back and shouted, “I did it!” It was a mixture of relief and pride. He continued his joy for the next minute saying so all could hear (and I’m guessing folks from a few blocks around could), “I did it! I didn’t think that I could but I did. I really did it!” By the time I caught up to him, he was happily shouting and crying. It made me cry. I knew how hard he had been trying, and how frustrated he had been. It was one of those moments where I felt I’d had some success as a parent. Those moments don’t come often, but when they do, they feel better than gold.

I think my son felt his achievement was better than gold too.

How have you helped your child succeed?  How have you helped them when they struggled?

I will be taking some time off to enjoy the rest of summer break and will be back in September.