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Sparkle (2)
I can’t sleep. It is two in the morning and I am awake, replaying an earlier conversation with my daughter’s gymnastics coach and trying desperately to just “Let it Go” so that I can go to sleep. It is not working. I get up to write an email. I start to write my thoughts on paper.
Today, Rosie’s coach told me that Rosie just wasn’t bringing focus and determination to practice and she would have to be demoted to the lower team.
She is six. Kindergarten. Six. The age of “My Little Ponies”, learning to read, and playing with her friends.
“Really?”, I asked, completely dumb-founded. “She has been so motivated to do her best and she got her back-walkover on Saturday?”
Young Gymnast via Flickr by todbaker
“She doesn’t have the drive and focus that we want to see. I have to move other girls up and she will have to move down. You have chosen a competitive sport and she is just not proving that she is up to the task.”, said the coach.
Before you click away thinking that I am some over-anxious mother pushing her child to do competitive sports---let me explain.
I may be over-anxious in some aspects of parenting but, never in sports.
I have one rule—my kids need to participate in some sport at all times. I don’t expect them to be Olympians, awarded college scholarships, or even the local soccer team star. I only want them to participate, have fun, and understand the benefits that sports and exercise bring to their body and mind. If they have talent, great! If not, having fun is the key. As long as they are having fun, I feel that we are in the right place.
Rosie is having fun. She loves gymnastics. She loves competing in the meets, getting trophies, and is proud of her accomplishments. We try to encourage that.
Since last summer, she has been on a competitive gymnastics team at our YMCA. Nothing fancy, just the local YMCA. This was our foray into the world of competition. A scary world filled with worried and over-anxious parents, poor communication, and purely subjective classifications. I tried to stay away.
While the other mothers would sit in the parent room during practice- motioning for their children to point their toes; chatting about harsh judges and increasing skill levels- I would retreat to the gym for my own workout. I would watch part of practice but would take care to never be critical. I would intentionally stay out of conversations about the program, the girls and their future. This was all for fun and exercise.
However, things began to change. I noticed some kids getting more attention. Some kids practicing harder skills while others stayed on the easy skills. Some kids being promoted to the higher levels and others not. Not to sound bitter, but one of those kids was mine.
I thought, “Maybe she isn’t getting attention because I am not sitting here making sure that she gets attention?” I began to stay for the practices.
Always the encouraging mom, I started to send her to private lessons once a week. It is what Rosie wanted. She wanted to stay with her friends. She wanted the challenge.
Things got better. The coaches noticed her focus. Her scores improved immensely.
Until yesterday.
Normally, I would just “Let it Go”. Realize that Rosie doesn’t even pay attention to the details of the team dynamics--she is just happy to play with her friends, jump around on the equipment, and compete for trophies.
Yesterday, I realized something has changed. I have become one of “those” moms. I find myself trying to add hours of private lessons, looking into hiring a private coach for Rosie, and making her practice at home. It makes me feel kind of sick.
I think, “Maybe we should just quit gymnastics?” It has pulled out anger in me and I don’t like it. Rosie, however, still loves it. She is getting strong, having fun, and learning. Isn’t that all I ask for?
I find myself wondering, is this how it happens? Is this how moms cross the fine line from encouraging sports mom to hyper-competitive sports bullies?
Gymnastics is hard. It is so subjective. Scores are based on how well routines are performed but little things register in the sub-conscious of the judges—how big the child smiles, the color of their leotard, the type of coffee they had that morning—which can affect the scores. It
