Kids and Commitments: Lessons and Sports

My kids and commitments are a bad combination. I had a conversation with someone from Hannah’s dance school this morning that went like this:

“Mrs. Flynn?” (When I hear those words, I aught to just hang up…no good conversation ever begins this way……)

“Yes?”

“Mrs, Flynn, this is Mrs. so and so from Hannah's dance school.”

“Yes?” (Cursed this Bluetooth, I can’t see who’s calling me and I can never locate my phone…)

“Has Hannah been attending dance class?” I’m not putting blame on her here, however,shouldn’t she know this?

“No.”

“When was she last there?”

“October.”

“I show that you’re paid through October.”

“Yes.”

“And she hasn’t been in nearly four months?”

“No.” (Again, it’s me to blame….but it hurts my feelings just a teensy bit to know that they didn’t notice. In nearly four months. It’s quite possible that Hannah knew this. I don’t think they engaged her in any way…)

Awkward silence…..she says nothing….I continue:

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called…” (but I’m taking the completely cowardly route here and thought it best to let you notice and call me….which you are, right now, at 8:30 a.m. It’s unpleasant…)

“Yes, you should have, I sent you a bill yesterday and it’s for a costume for the recital. We ordered a costume for her.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have done that, I got the letter and didn’t order it.”

“We order them for all the girls.”

Silence here while I try to recall the letter, it seems I remember it saying something like “order before the deadline….” or something like that….I threw it away…

It is now a silence standoff. One I wish I wasn’t having because (a) it is my first out of home conversation of the day, and (b) I had high hopes for dance class. I loved it.

For a minute…

I spent September and October begging her to attend, November and December bribing her to attend, and January trying to avoid the thought that I have thrust into the world….another….

commitment-phobe.

I’ve already produced one, but this kid was gonna be my dancer (or soccer player, tennis player, runner, something, something, SOMETHING…..show me some PASSION…I‘m not saying be GOOD at it)! It is also noteworthy here to know that she asked to take these lessons….she couldn’t wait…

I see kids obligating themselves to sports or music all the time. Will someone tell me how? What is the parental magic formula here?

I think back to the nightmare that is Scott, my (now) 13 year old. We started with soccer,because every kid loves soccer. Seriously, it never, ever crossed my mind that we wouldn’t make this work. So far I’d been a cookie-cutout Mom….seemed like soccer would be the next step, he didn’t have to be good, he just had to show up, learn to be part of a team, meet kids, have fun….

Ummmm…..

No.

You know the expression “out in left field?” Look it up in Webster’s and there you’ll see a picture of my kid’s soccer (baseball, football….) experience. He was “on a team” with a group of other five year olds. I was getting to know the mothers, which is tough for me because as much as I enjoy engaging people with writing, I’m not much of a conversationalist. It didn’t take long for this to turn into pure drudgery.

There was one time when he’d wandered so far away from the actual lesson (or is it practice?) that he couldn’t even hear the coach call him, then yell at him. The other mothers around me looked at me sympathetically and I said “Guess I better go get him…” So, I took the parental walk of shame to fetch my kid, while all the other mothers looked on, just happy to not be me. He had acquired both an errant soccer ball and a flower for me by the time I got to him and led him back up to the pack.

Clearly, it was hard to be angry. He was five and he picked Mommy a flower.

I sat back down on the bleachers with my treasure and counted down the minutes until we could leave.

Soccer only went south from there, then, thankfully, we quit.

If soccer was bad, football was much, much worse.

He did the same thing, only this time I had to sit in the stands (well, not actually sit…) with his new baby sister. I don’t think I ever saw a play because baby sister was quite demanding… Scott wishy-washied himself all the way through a (one season in, one season out, one season in…..) flag football situation. He missed nearly every practice and Frank ended up in countless conversations with coaches, all of whom tried to work with him.

They must’ve been shocked when he showed up for tackle football in middle school.

I know I was.

Again, the begging and pleading to “skip” practices…”I have a headache.” “I have a stomach ache,” “I have too much homework.” “I’m not sure I want to play football at all…” Really? Ya don’t say…

Baseball with the same child was a complete nightmare because by this time, baby sister was a demanding toddler and the Tallahassee temperatures, in the direct sun, were 1000 degrees. This coach put him so far out in left field that I actually took a picture of him, completely turned the wrong direction, picking up trash.

During an actual game.

Bear in mind here that my husband is a competitive athlete. In three sports, so of course the whole “non-committal fail” rests entirely with me, I mean, what am I good at?

I took dance.

I took piano.

I can’t dance.

I’m not too good on the piano…

…and I think I may have taken that for five years. (Five years of begging, pleading, faking sick….and lying to my teacher every single lesson about practicing. She drew handy little charts on each piece of music and I’d lie every single week. Had I practiced as much as I said I did, I’d be a concert pianist right now. I couldn’t even play the first few notes and week after week,year after year, I never made it past level two…)

The only way I can play now is by ear, which is okay….but I could do that back then.

So here I sit in a “tutu situation.” I’m looking forward to getting the bill in the mail.

And I’m left to ponder it….if you know the answer, please enlighten me…My mother forced me to attend lessons that I loathed. I did not force my children to go back once they decided they didn’t like it. To force or not to force? Either way, in this situation, the outcome was exactly the same.

Oh, well, it is what it is….I’m not gonna have an athlete or a musician, no biggie. I’ll embrace what is good and that is plenty….they’re sweet, smart, courteous and funny.

and they love their Mamma…even though I’m not an athlete or a musician…

and they love their Daddy, and it’s not because he is.

I think we can all live with that