Dear Mom,

Thank you for signing me up for things as a kid and thank you for letting me not see any of them through to the end. I am so grateful to you for allowing me to quit everything I felt like quitting. 

I think?

Ok, so I’ve actually written to you before about how much I wish you hadn’t let me quit everything because I never stuck with anything long enough to know if I could be great at it. I remember being naturally good at ice skating, but I didn’t want to wear that silly costume for the recital, so I begged to quit, and you said yes. Did you know the real reason? Why I didn’t want to wear that purple genie costume? It showed my stomach. Was like a bra and pants. I’m not sure how old I was but I think it was around middle school and there was no way I was going to wear that outfit and go out there twirling around on ice in front of a crowd that most likely contained people from my school.

Did you know? If so, thank you. Thank you for not forcing me to see it through and pushing through my discomfort. It wouldn’t have been worth the horror of embarrassment and body shame. If you knew, thank you.

Overall, throughout my childhood, I became an expert at quitting. I don’t have a memory for everything. I wish I did. I wish I could discuss this all with you. I wish I knew if I did have a shot at being good at something. Was there an activity that I quit too soon? Was there one that I could have come back to later? I loved being on ice but hated the risqué costumes. Maybe I should have tried hockey? I loved music. Maybe I should have given guitar and piano another chance?

When I had my own kids, I wanted to find some sort of balance. I knew I’d never be the parent who demands they stick with something they hate. But I didn’t have a lot to pull from besides not letting them quit everything. Because even if I do appreciate your method now, there were many years that I wondered if it would have benefitted me to have seen something through to the end. Anything. I was always searching for my identity. For my place in the world. And I do think that the quitting so often delayed me in finding my community. 

As a parent, I wanted to find a way to be supportive to my kids without letting them give up instantly. I wasn’t entirely sure what that looked like. Luckily, I married a person who had much more experience with this sort of thing. Jeremy played all the sports and also coached kids later, so he had an opinion that mattered a great deal to me. 

Together, we decided that the kids could quit anything, but never on a bad day. We all have bad days and often the feeling of wanting to quit will pass. For the last few years this idea has worked well. When Scotland had a frustrating day playing drums, we told her she needed to wait to make that decision. The following week she had a wonderful lesson and begged us to continue. Our method in action was working. We patted ourselves on the back.

Later, Scotland had a rough day at Jui Jitsu. Again, we said we’d wait until the next lesson. The next week she had a wonderful time and didn’t want to quit. Again, it was working. Great parents over here.

With her drums there were many ups and downs, and we almost always used her recitals as a timeline. Just get through the recital and you can quit after. After each recital she’d be invigorated and beg to continue.

But then came the moments when it was time to quit. When the bad days added up. When her Jui Jitsu class wasn’t enjoyable anymore. When her drum teacher made her feel bad. When we really couldn’t afford the lessons anymore anyway. 

Still, as she has tried new things we have stuck to our strategy of not quitting on a bad day.

Lately, I’ve been rethinking this idea. Restructuring the method. Because sometimes we do need to quit on a bad day. Sometimes a bad day is bad enough. And who am I to dictate if a day is bad enough or not for my kid?

There is also the very real fact that kids don’t always know how to verbalize a bad experience. It took years for Scotland to put into words what she didn’t like about her drum teacher. Years to tell us that she felt badly during her lessons because he teased her. She had been having bad days for a while that we didn’t even know about. So, who are we to say when it’s time to give up? Who are we to say that she needs to wait another week?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the importance of allowing ourselves to walk away from something and to not feel guilty about it. To allow ourselves to recognize that some bad days are bad enough to warrant the quitting. Some bad days are the last straw and it’s not worth giving it another try.

Now, let me stop here to just say that most of these stories are about Scotland. Idris doesn’t quit because Idris refuses to start in the first place. He hates classes. Doesn’t like being coached. Prefers to kick the ball how he wants when he wants and where he wants. So, yeah, we don’t sign him up for much. 

Scotland loves trying new sports. She is currently doing soccer. Wants to do volleyball and gymnastics. And, until recently, she was also diving.

So… this is about her diving experience.

We signed her up this fall for a dive team at one of our local pools. This is a $10 rec center program and to be perfectly honest, we weren’t expecting much. We weren’t expecting the coach to be that great. We weren’t expecting her to learn to be an Olympian. We weren’t expecting her to be winning the dive meets. But we did expect her to enjoy herself. It was low pressure low expectations. We said let’s give it a try and if it’s too much for her she doesn’t have to continue.

At first, she loved it. Despite the two hours of doing essentially the same dive over and over and over. Despite the late nights freezing as she waited in a wet swimsuit for her turn on the board. Despite the coach who I believe doesn’t actually know how to coach. She was having fun and wanting to continue. 

Then, last week she had a bad day. She was stuck in her head about a dive and stood on the edge of the board psyching herself out. She was cold. Her knees locked out. Shivering. Contemplating her dive. Seconding guessing. Questioning. And the whole time the coach, watching from the side, encouraged her to continue contemplating. Never once told her to just jump in. Never told her to try again later. Never told her it was OK to be afraid. For close to fifteen minutes. She stalled. Jeremy (who came to pick her up and witnessed the last minutes of this) was the one who finally gave her the permission to jump in. She hadn’t even realized that was an option. She left that practice feeling awful. Worn out and depleted, she went to school the next day and could barely keep her eyes open. She did poorly on her test and felt like she wasn’t herself.

So, when she came home, we didn’t tell her to wait until next week. We didn’t remind her to never quit on a bad day. We were reminded that some days can be bad enough to quit. This day was. 

In the days since, I have questioned that assessment. Did I encourage her to lean into her desire to quit because I didn’t like the setup in the first place? Was I really guiding her to that decision because I didn’t want to take her to the dive class from 5:30-7:30pm twice a week? That I didn’t think it was good on her body to be out there diving at nighttime on a school night? I know I thought it was too much for her. Did I jump on her contemplation to quit and nudge her to make that decision? Should I have pushed her to try?

But then I had another conversation with Scotland that changed my view once more. We were discussing other possibilities of activities to sign up for. Did she want to instead of diving do gymnastics? She’d been begging to do it since the Olympics. Saying she was going to be an Olympic gymnast one day. Now she was sitting at the table shaking her head and telling me she no longer wants to be a gymnast. Ok. I then told her there was a volleyball option at the rec center and she lit up. She loves playing volleyball but then she quickly followed it up with “But I don’t want to be a volleyball player when I grow up.” I said, “Of course, you don’t have to be an athlete at all. You can be an astronaut or a doctor or drive a garbage truck. You can do anything.” She then made sure to say she does not want to drive a garbage truck but then she said, “I just want to get back to my drums and singing.” 

This interaction reminded me that my daughter loves to play sports and be athletic, for fun. She loves to move and try new things. That doesn’t mean she must pursue a sport. She doesn’t have to train and be on a team. She can go to the tennis courts at our apartment and have fun. She can ride her bike or swim in our pool or mess around on her skateboard. None of these activities must be for life.

When we talked about her not going back to the pool, the option she chose was to come back to it later. She loves diving and doesn’t want to stop forever. She’s only requesting a different coach and maybe waiting until the summer to do it when it’s warmer and not on school nights. And at first, in the way back of my head, I thought about how divers and swimmers do these sports at awful hours and that’s just the way it is. But then, it isn’t if you’re diving for fun. She’s not looking for a life of diving. Or gymnastics. Or volleyball. Or soccer. She loves all of these sports for fun. For socializing with her friends. For moving around and being silly. I know she loves improving and getting stronger, but she doesn’t want to put all of herself into one sport. That’s just not who she is. And she knows it. Already. At almost 8 years old. She knows who she is and what she wants.

She knows that her happy place is on stage. She wants to perform. She wants to sing and dance and play her music. I’m reminded that she only quit drums because of her teacher. I promised to find her a new one. I delayed because music lessons are a whole lot more expensive than rec center sports. But this is her dream. This is what makes her happy. So, shouldn’t I figure it out for her? Shouldn’t I save up and do research and find something that works so that I can let her follow her dreams? 

At the end of the day, I won’t quit on her. I will follow through on my promises and do my job as her mom. And part of that is definitely knowing when it is time to walk away but it’s also knowing when it is time to follow up. Time to push. Time to encourage. Scotland is asking me to do my job to help her get back into music. The last thing she needs from me is to push her to sports. I will make sure that I do my part so she can follow through on her own dreams. I will let my daughter quit any activity she doesn’t want to do because I will never quit on my daughter.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel