Tryouts

Did you ever try out for a sport or role when you were growing up?

I tried out for a sporting team in high school that had the minimum number of players needed when I tried out, so I wasn’t cut (phew!). I had to practice, and practice, and practice, and eventually became proficient at the sport and played for my three years.

My oldest has tried out for two sports. Basketball, when he was in middle school; and football in high school. He didn’t make the basketball team, which he was disappointed by, but also didn’t have much playing time under his belt (he shot hoops with friends occasionally, but hadn’t played a game, even in a rec league). He played flag football throughout his younger years, and made the high school football team based on his skills and knowledge of the game.

My youngest, tried out for theater roles, and has been fortunate to get selected to participate in his high school productions each year. His elementary theater experience really helped him prepare.

Our exchange student has now decided to try out for a sport. Her experience is limited, but her enthusiasm and determination to do well, impressive. As a host parent, I want to encourage her, yet, don’t want her to be too disappointed should she not make the team. It’s a tough balancing act in my experience. My oldest knew two days into his basketball tryouts he likely wouldn’t make the team. I strongly encouraged him to keep with the tryouts (don’t regret not seeing something through — hood or bad), and he was released from moving forward in the tryout process the following day. I’ve reflected on this numerous times wondering if I did the right (or wrong) thing by pushing him to continue. My thinking was, he would regret his decision if he stopped early and didn’t see the tryouts through.

I’ve decided this time with our exchange student, I’m just going to be supportive and if she chooses to stop the tryout process, help her work through any negative feelings she experiences. It may dampen her otherwise positive experience here in America, but I’m sure she’ll take something positive from the situation regardless of the outcome.

Tryouts are hard. Of course you want to see your child succeed, but how do you handle it when they get cut, or it looks like they won’t make the team? How do you help them put the disappointment into perspective and use the situation to help them do something different in the future (prepare more, focus on other interests, etc.)?

Who Are You?

Have you ever wondered what your child is thinking? How they see themselves? How they think others see them?

My youngest is willing to engage without much effort and comfortable sharing who he is with his father and I, and others. My oldest is more of a closed book—engaging infrequently and sharing bits and pieces that make it hard(er) to figure the complete picture out.

My oldest engages as he’s ready, late at night when my husband is getting ready for bed, in the car when I pick him up from practice, or what my husband and I feel are “out-of-the-blue” moments. My son recently asking his father if he wanted to go for a run with him. My husband had to suppress his excitement—and surprise at my son’s request (it’s that meaningful to us when he opens up to us and shares, well, anything).

His football team has had a good year and are now in the playoffs. He helps manage the team and does film review with the coaches. He seems more comfortable than I’ve seen him in a while. Before the most recent game, the officials were down on the field before the game started. My son, who also referees flag football games, seemed to know at least one of the officials through his other job. They shook hands, talked, laughed, and then the other officials came over. I saw my son talk easily and shake hands with the others. It was impressive to watch. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought my son was in a higher leadership position, such as the head coach. The moment gave me pause. “Who is this kid?” The confident young man on the field looked like my son, but wasn’t acting like the kid I know. I wondered what else I didn’t/don’t know about him.

As a parent, I long to know my children deeply. I want to know who they are, what motivates them, makes them happy, and what will help them thrive. I also want to know their father and I are doing right by them, and helping prepare them to navigate life so it’s meaningful and joyful, and ensure they have the tools to navigate tough times and situations and know they’ll make it through and be okay. Yet, I’m in the stands of the game wondering who my son is, how I can know him better, and make sure I’ve done my job.

I’m not sure if we ever truly know this as parents, which will have me always working towards knowing my children better.

How do you see your child? How have they shared who they are (or are becoming) with you?

Feeling Lost

Have you ever felt lost as a parent?

Feeling lost, when you’re a new parent, is very common. You’re learning as you go. If you’re like me, you settle into the role (at some point) and feel more confident in your capabilities, though you know you never have all the tools, guidance, knowledge, or wisdom you need. You do your best, and when you mess up, you acknowledge your mistake, make amends (if needed), learn, and do something different going forward.

I felt a new kind of lost this past week. Wanting to support my oldest as he advocated for himself around how he wanted to contribute to his football team, and wanting to help him not make a mistake — leave something he loved doing because in-the-moment he wasn’t sure if his passion for it was still there or not. I tried balancing listening, making myself available to talk, giving advice, holding my tongue, and supporting him. I worked to be aware and walk with him (great advice a friend gave me months ago), versus steer him one way or another. It was so very hard.

He talked to his coaches, he decided he no longer wanted to play. As a parent, I was concerned, not that he didn’t want to play, but that he might regret not playing at some point (this season or years down the road). His coaches talked to him some more and asked him to reconsider. We (my son and I) talked more, I gave more advice (reminding myself to walk beside, not steer), I waited — so hard. He notified the coaches his decision was final. That worried me, what if he changed his mind in a few weeks? He had set the proverbial bridge on fire with his coaches, they wouldn’t beg him to play.

My son then went to turn in his gear. He was gone longer than I expected. I waited. When he got home I could see he was happy, a happy I hadn’t seen in a while. Not a relieved happy, but a “I’m at peace” happy. I asked him how it went and he shared he’d talked to the coaches and they asked him if he’d like to help out with the team — do filming, help with equipment, and coaching. He loved that idea and agreed to stay on the team in that capacity. It felt like an answer to prayers (and there were a lot of them from this worrying mom😊). It was unexpected, and yet such a great alternative for my son.

What I took away from all this was my son is becoming his own man, my thoughts/guidance/advice were welcome this time, but only because we walked through this (his father as well) together. If I was lost (as a parent), I grew by letting my son own his decision, and supporting him through the process.

So much of parenting feels new at the beginning, but I’m finding as my son reaches adulthood, the new keeps on coming. I’m curious what other new parenting growth is on the horizon for me, but am in no rush to find out. I’ll just keep on walking for now.

What growth have you experienced as a parent lately?

I’ll be off for Labor Day weekend and back in September.

Advocating for Yourself

How do you get what you want?

No, it’s not a trick question. You ask for it, is a typical response to this question. Another, to get what you want is to advocate for yourself.

Our oldest has decided after a less-than-disappointing season last year to come back out for football. New coach, new staff, new approach. My son went to the first day of practice and came home frustrated. His former coach had relegated him to center and line positions defending. My son is tall, muscular, and lean. Not ideal for these positions. He’s always wanted to play tight-end or receiver, but hasn’t been asked to play either role. It felt deflating to him after the first day when he thought he might not get a chance to try something different. My husband and I talked to him. We shared that he has to ask for what he wants, he has to advocate for himself. It might feel uncomfortable, but it’s how he’ll give himself an opportunity to play in a new position.

We discussed while others may see your talents, or your challenges, or your passions, rarely does anyone advocate on your behalf unless they believe you are at risk (getting hurt, falling behind, being unfairly treated). Teachers, mentors, coaches, friends, and family may give you ideas or suggestions on how to achieve your goals, and may even make introductions for you, but you have to take the next step of engaging and asking for what you want.

We talked about how you have to advocate for yourself throughout life — advance in work, take on new roles and responsibilities, to ensure you’re getting the proper medical care, etc., — and shared personal examples where his father and I did this in our own lives. We shared that while he might not always like the answer he gets after asking, he can take pride in knowing he took action to make something happen for himself.

We encouraged him to talk to his coach, and role-played what he might say, communicate his commitment to the team, and his desire to contribute. We’ll see what happens, but I feel good knowing my son realizes the importance on advocating for himself, and can start getting practice in asking for what he wants.

How are you helping your kid ask for what they want?

Fight On!

Does your child play a sport?

Our Friday evenings are filled with football games. Our oldest plays mostly center and on the offensive line for his team. Going to his games is a mix of nostalgia (my high school experience going to games), nerves (still getting to know parents of the other players), and stress (for my son and the other players safety, how the game will go, etc.).

When I was in high school, our team was good. It was fun to see them win, it stung when they lost, but socializing with friends was the best part. Fast forward to now, my son’s team did well enough to win their division last year (moving them up), and now getting pummeled every game this year — so painful. Yet, while defeat doesn’t feel good, and can shake your confidence, the kids seem to be taking it in stride, and the school community more focused on supporting the players and just being happy to be together.

My son’s coach’s motto is “fight on!” It’s been the motto of the team for many years. And while it’s focused on the game of football it certainly applies to life. Keep going. Get back up. Try again. Keep fighting. Fight on!

My son’s team is being put to the test this year. Continued losses make it hard to get back up, but they support each other, want to get the best out of each other, and show each other they have given it their all. It might not be reflected in the final score of the game, but in their resilience in the face of defeat these kids are learning, they’re winning.

How does your child handle defeat? What positive impact comes from it?

We will be celebrating an older family member’s milestone birthday next week, so I will be off, but back the following.

Report Card

How would you grade yourself as a parent?

Most of the time I’d tell you my husband and I are doing “okay” as parents — learning as we go, making mistakes, admitting to ourselves and our kids when we do, learning from them and correcting ourselves/doing better, working to impart wisdom, morals, values, and beliefs, and supporting our boys as they grow. Sometimes I feel like we’re doing well (A/B grading), but other times…

Our oldest doubled-down on not wanting to continue sports in the upcoming school year. He made some good points regarding why he wanted to step away, but his argument seemed to carry a thread of how hard it might be to continue and that was the biggest driver behind his decision. My husband and I knew that the life lessons he would gain by seeing it through were very valuable—you don’t quit when it gets hard, you find your way through. Yet how could we get him to understand and reconsider? We talked about what he would gain by staying, how it would help shape him and his confidence, and how we didn’t want him to look back and regret his decision later when there was nothing he could do about it (meaning he only has two years left in high school). He was standing firm. As much as I hoped he wouldn’t play tackle football due to potential head injury, I was now hoping beyond hope he’d change his mind. It felt like the downside of walking away outweighed the upside. I felt like I was failing my son.

Turn to my youngest. His class is going on an overnight camping trip done by a group called Journeymen. This groups helps develop skills amongst its campers around working together, and successfully completing tasks (such as building on outdoor structure to sleep under). The intention is for the campers to be pushed outside their comfort zone, but have success and grow as a result. My son’s class had participated in it when he was in the sixth grade and he was pushed almost too far (keep in mind he is on the spectrum and his brain isn’t wired to stand significant discomfort easily), that we ended up getting a call where my son pleaded with me to take him home. I told him I couldn’t and explained why it was important he stay (he needed to know that he could do it). He did stay, but was a bit traumatized by the whole experience and was good with never going back again, You can imagine his reaction when we told him his class would be returning. He broke down, got highly upset and stated repeatedly “I’m not going.” My husband and I jumped into trying to calm him. “It will be okay, you’ve grown since the last time and so have your classmates. It will be better.” He wasn’t buying it. After several minutes of being unsuccessful at talking-him-down, my husband offered a great suggestion—have our son talk to his teacher, express his concerns and share what would make him more comfortable going on the trip. Our son was still highly upset, but said he’d try.

That night my husband and I asked each other “are we doing this parent thing right?” Because we felt like we’d be given a F grade based on the recent interactions with our boys. What were we doing wrong? I didn’t sleep well that night wondering what I should be doing differently or better.

Fast forward to the next afternoon. Our youngest gets home from school all smiles. He’d talked to the teacher and the teacher was in agreement around what hadn’t been great the first time round and how it would be different this time. My son had gone from being fearful the prior day to excited about going on the trip. Our oldest got home a little later. Before my husband or I could get a “how was your day” out, our son announced he’d continue to play football and would reserve making any decisions until closer to the start of the season. He wasn’t committing long term, but giving himself more time to make a decision. My husband and I sighed in relief. Maybe my husband and I were doing better than we thought???

What made me feel immensely better was when we shared our failings with a group of friends, and they all shared times they felt like failures too on occasion regarding their kids. Each story was relatable, made us laugh, and while we are trying our best, and aren’t successful in every moment, we see growth in our kids and ourselves beyond.

How would you grade yourself as a parent on any given day? How are you getting through those times you feel like a failure or not living up to the example you are trying to set?

Crossroads

My oldest has asked to play football since he was very young. We were against tackle (due to brain injury concern, and the potential for him being exposed and potentially embracing toxic masculinity), but relented following our son being in flag football for many years, COVID isolating us all, and his need to see his dream through.

His first year, it was a shortened season—only four games, but they won most, and he had fun. The second year was a bit more eye-opening for him. He’d get overly anxious before each game — being unable to eat and/or keep anything down. He’d have no energy during the games (you don’t play optimally when you’re tired), and would be starving. All distractions. Workouts were more intense, but that didn’t bother him—he likes pushing himself to be fitter. His teammates were all over the place. Seniors making the season as if it were life and death, and his peers goofing off half the time. It’s left him questioning ‘do I really want to keep doing this?’

My oldest shared with his father he was considering walking away from the game. My husband was taken aback and needed a few minutes to let it sync in. My husband shared what he’d heard when I got home later that evening. “He said he has an important decision to make here in a few weeks about whether he’ll play football or not next year.” We we’re both caught by surprise. I wanted to talk to my son and see if I could understand more of what was driving this.

Thankfully he was willing to talk. I asked him why his was questioning playing with the team. He had clearly been putting some thought into it as he’d put a pros and cons list together mental which he recited. He shared that he loves the team and preparing for the game (though grueling). He hated how anxious he got, and it not allowing him to perform to his ability. He hated the range of attitudes by the players—overly serious (this is life and death), or immaturity, and some toxic masculinity (let’s hit something, pound chests, etc.). I could see how conflicted he was — loving the game, not loving all the comes with it. He was at a crossroads.

I started by telling him that playing, or not playing, was his decision but wanted to give him some things to consider before making the call. I started by talking about his teammates and the effect the pandemic had (which we all don’t fully understand yet) on younger people. “The seniors were overly serious because they got gypped out of two regular seasons due to the virus. They had a brief taste in the shortened season in the Spring of last year and wanted to see what they were capable of. Regarding your peers, studies have already shown maturity lacking in teen age groups due to the virus. Give tour peers through the summer and I’d guess they’ll act more age-appropriate.” I let that sink in for a minute then continued, “Regarding pre-game nerves. We can get you help with that through the doctor and bring in others like a sports psychologist to give you tools. The coach talked to you already about the leadership potential he sees in you, right?” My son nodded his head. “You have the opportunity to lean into being a leader. You followed last year because you thought that was your place, but you are growing and others see the potential in you. You have the opportunity to lead, people respect and listen to what you have to say.” This seemed to get him thinking based on his facial expression. “The last thing I’d like you to think about is not having regrets. You need to think through would you regret not playing sometime down the road, and if the answer is yes, than reconsider.” I shared a story with him about my own high school sports experience. I’d played on the golf team. The game was mentally taxing. I was good, but not great. I took it seriously, but not life or death. I recall questioning myself each year, but particularly before my senior year if I really wanted to subject myself to all the mental stress again. I ultimately decided I would regret it if I didn’t see it through, and I’m so glad I did. I have great memories, continued to improve my game, and got to be a mentor/roll model to the younger players. It was very satisfying.

My son is at a crossroads. My husband and I can only guide him at this point. I don’t want him making a decision he’ll wish he hadn’t later. As a parent, I feel the need to step back and let him make up his mind, and show that we trust him to make decisions that are right for him. He’s becoming an adult after all and needs to learn how to make ‘big’ decisions he can live with. It’s a bit unsettling as a parent to start letting go, but that’s the only way he’ll grow.

What crossroads has your child faced? How are you helping them make decisions for themselves that they feel good about?

Jealousy

Have you ever been jealous of someone else?

It’s a rhetorical question. Everyone experiences jealousy at some point. My oldest’s thinking on his athletic capabilities is being challenged this year in new ways. Where he once was confident, he’s now unsure. Who he is, if he isn’t strong athletically is depressing him, and his outlook for what the future holds. As a parent it is heartbreaking and scary to watch (how can I support him best? Get him out of this funk? Help him see he is way more than what he’s athletically capable of).

After a game, he got in the car and said, “I suck.” He proceeded to talk and talk. He is normally not much of a talker, so the fact that he was talking let me know he needed to. We got home and sat in the car talking for almost another hour. It came up that not only was he feeling bad about himself, but also envious of others — a peer, in particular, who is gifted athletically without having to put much effort in. “This isn’t even the sport he loves, and he’s a starter every game.” I attempted to help him see things from another point of view, but he wasn’t fully listening. He had dug in on the situation being dark and hopeless for him. I worried going to bed that night — would he be okay?

The next morning, after a good nights sleep, he came out to where I was. I shared I’d like to talk with him a little more whenever he was ready. I thought he’d delay the conversation but asked for a minute and then asked what I wanted to talk about. First I asked him if he was feeling any better and he said he was. Phew! I said, “ There’s two points I didn’t make last night, that I think are important. One, things feel really intense right now. You’re 15, you’re going through puberty, you’re still growing, trying new things, and everything can feel really intense,” he nodded in agreement, I continued, “things will get better. If I could go back to my 15 year-old self, I would tell her to be a lot kinder and to not take things so seriously. The second thing I want to talk about is jealousy. We all experience it. You need to understand that while you’re jealous of others, others are jealous of you — for reasons that are out of your control — you’re tall, math comes easily to you, you don’t want for anything. You may think ‘that’s crazy, no one would be jealous of me’, but I’m telling you it’s the truth. Remember that. Your friend can’t help he’s athletically talented. That has more to do with the genes he was given from his parents than anything else. He can’t help that. Just like you can’t help that you’re tall, or good at math, right?” He nodded. “That’s all,” I concluded. “Thanks, mom,” he said. Then we sat and watched a game together on TV. He seemed calmer and more at peace. I hope that is the case.

Has your child experienced jealousy? How have you helped them come to terms or work through it?

Winning and Losing

How do you handle wins and losses?

Our oldest dressed for his team’s game and watched as they went up by many points. Early in the second half it looked like a potential blowout. But the other team kept playing, our team made mistakes, confidences got shaken, and what should have been a blow out ended up with the opposition winning soundly. It was a tough night.

The next morning after a good nights sleep washed most of the sting of the loss away, my son and I talked about the game. “Any thoughts on yesterday’s game?” I asked. He was quiet for a few moments. I couldn’t tell if he hadn’t heard me or was thinking about his answer. Just as I was going to ask another question he replied. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what my soccer coach in elementary school used to ask us after a loss — did they win, or did we lose? — I think we lost yesterday.” Whoa, I thought, that was profound. He’s really thinking about this at a deeper level, and processing what happened. I agreed with him on them losing. He talked for a few minutes on his view of why the loss occurred and what he’d fix if given the chance (plays he’d run, positions he’d have switched out to keep everyone with enough energy to play their best, etc.). He talked like a mature adult, with great leadership potential. I was both a little surprised and very impressed. I was reminded he is 15, a young man, stepping out of the shadow of his younger self. Gulp! Time truly is going fast.

Winning feels good. Losing doesn’t, but you learn so much more when things don’t go as you hoped or planned. You learn about yourself – what you’d do differently and improve the next time, and others – what’s within your control (not much) and what isn’t — and how to digest the pain in a way that helps you process the situation and moves you toward positive personal growth.

How do you help your child when they lose? How are you helping them see the upside of not winning, and the opportunity for growth?

Summer Camp Inspiration

What is keeping your child busy this summer?

Summer camps can be a godsend for parents when school is out — with the exception of the carpooling, odd hours, and cost, right?

My oldest decided he wanted to go to a specialty sports camp. It was a single day and very intensive. He was excited to go as the camp was touted as preparing the participants to become college athletes some day. I expected to hear all about how awesome the camp was when my son got home, but he was more in a daze (he got sunburned and had been outside for ten hours, but still).

“How’d it go?,” I asked. “Okay,” my son said. He was quiet. I had expected him to add more without prompting, but to no avail, so I continued, “was it all you were hoping for?” “Not exactly,” he said. He drew out the word not. “How so?” I asked. “We’ll, they had us run drills and this one coach kept yelling at me. I thought they were going to teach me, but I don’t feel like I learned anything new.” I asked him a few more questions then gave it a rest. He was clearly disappointed with the experience and exhausted.

About a week after this my son asked me to go for a walk. That rarely happens, so I jumped at the chance to get outside and have one-on-one time with him. As we walked he talked about his plans for the summer and things he wanted to do. As we walked the conversation went back to the camp he had attended. “I just can’t get it out of my mind what that coach said,” he started, “what he was asking me to do made sense but it was my first time doing it, so unsure why he kept singling me out and yelling at me.” We talked for a while about how the coach gave his critiques. Based on how my son described it the coach ‘motivated’ by shaming. I had to stop my son and make sure he understood something very clearly. “There are different ‘leaders’ that will come in and out of your life and will come in the form of teacher, your boss, and even coach. Leadership styles vary, but the best leaders know how to get the best out of you without having to break you down. When a leader feels this is the only way they can motivate you, it says more about them, than it says about you.” I corrected myself, “It says everything about them and nothing about you.” I explained further, “When you use shame or intimidation to motivate, it will work but there can be collateral damage, I.e., devastating consequences. You don’t want someone to be the best athlete or musician or dancer or worker or (fill in the blank), but be stressed all the time, hate themselves, and/or suffer mentally. You want to be led by someone who inspires you, understands how to get you to push beyond your comfort zone, and get the best out of you. When that happens you thrive vs. survive.” I took a breathe with the hopes that what I was saying was sinking in. “If the coach taught you a new approach and you think it’s a good one, then work on getting comfortable with it, and better at it, but do not waste one second allowing how he delivered his assessment to you sink it. Just let it fall on the ground where it belongs. He doesn’t know you or your capabilities. My guess is he would single out anyone he thought might make him look bad. Pitiful.” I rested my case.

My son was still taking in what I said. He shared other comments the coach had made that were directed at the larger group that confirmed my suspicion that this coach wasn’t someone I wanted my son around, and was grateful it had only been for the one day.

We’ve all had experiences in our lives where a leader didn’t necessarily show good character. It’s disappointing when you experience it, and angering when you see (of hear after the fact) your child did. I’m just glad my son shared. I hope he’ll take this lessen on leadership and look for leadership that will help him grow in a positive and healthy way — leaders who inspire him, push him to be his best, while appreciating him for who he is as he is.

What is your child doing this summer? Who are the leaders inspiring your child?

I will be off next week enjoying the long weekend with family and friends, and will return in July.