I am a competitive person not in a direct in your face kind of way, but in a more subtle I will keep working until I have overcome and conquered kind of way. This has always been a positive for me. It has allowed me to complete a Ph.D. program (despite a professor’s assertion that I did not belong there), it allowed me to qualify for and complete the Boston Marathon, it has allowed me to write a novel and a whole host of other things. But last week I ran into the down side of my competitive nature. You see last week the items to be accomplished were not mine but my daughters.
The first event occurred during the course of a normal run of the mill conversation with my children. We were talking about preschool and what they had done that day. During the course of the conversation my daughter mentioned that several of the boys really like another girl in their class. Now it must be said that physically I completely resemble a grown up with laugh lines that will someday be crows feet/wrinkles, some extra weight from three pregnancies, and joints that are starting to creek when I get out of bed in the morning. Despite these facts at that moment I was transported back to a school aged child who deeply cared about who liked who best and how to be “liked best”.
“Why do they like this girl* so much?” I asked trying to sound nonchalant while my hand gripped the countertop like a vice.
“Oh because she’s sooo beautiful and extra special” my twins agreed and my daughter seems completely unfazed by this revelation, while the angry voice inside me screamed, NOOOOOO, no she’s not, she’s not beautiful, she’s not special, no no no no no no no. My child is beautiful, my child is special, mine, mine, mine.
Out loud I again tried to sound nonchalant when I said, “You know I think you guys are pretty special.”
“Yup” my twins agreed and almost in unison said, “God made us special and he loves us very much.”
Not that it exactly made me feel much better, but at that point I decided to cut my losses. In retrospect, I know the girl in question and from her mothers own mouth the reason these boys like her daughter so much is because she is willing to play the game the way the boys tell her to play. In other words she is compliant. My daughter is many things but compliant is just not really one of them and while at times this makes life challenging I would not have it any other way. My daughter is not going to do what someone else tells her to do just because they tell her to do it unless she has determined it is something she wants to do. She has a mind of her own and I take comfort in knowing that my daughter will not be a “follower.” Her independence will serve her well in life. Now all I have to do is grow up enough not to feel threatened by a popular four year old. A lesson my daughter seems to have already learned.
The second e
vent occurred later that week when I took my daughter to her second ballet lesson. She was joining an already established class and as such was a bit “out of the loop.” The first lesson in an effort to help her catch up I taped the recital dance so she could learn it on her own. However all week long she decided she had other things to do, so there I sat on lesson day watching other girls twirl effortlessly to the steps while my own daughter did half steps. As I sat I felt anger rising. She talks about wanting to dance, she wanted these lessons, she goes on and on about wanting to dance on a stage, and when she has the chance she doesn’t practice, she doesn’t even really try. And then I remembers my own father, when I was only six and doing well as a swimmer. He would watch the practices and tell me things I could do better, how I could swim better, be better and how this killed any joy I had for swimming. I quit swimming after two years and it took me almost ten years to go back to it. So I resolved to let my daughter dance and to let it be her way and if that way is badly then let it be badly. I will let her enjoy her dancing and as for my competition… maybe its time for me to go back to road races.
*who shall remain nameless mostly because it doesn’t matter what her name is, what matters is what she represents which is anyone who I have ever felt inferior to.
The first event occurred during the course of a normal run of the mill conversation with my children. We were talking about preschool and what they had done that day. During the course of the conversation my daughter mentioned that several of the boys really like another girl in their class. Now it must be said that physically I completely resemble a grown up with laugh lines that will someday be crows feet/wrinkles, some extra weight from three pregnancies, and joints that are starting to creek when I get out of bed in the morning. Despite these facts at that moment I was transported back to a school aged child who deeply cared about who liked who best and how to be “liked best”.
“Why do they like this girl* so much?” I asked trying to sound nonchalant while my hand gripped the countertop like a vice.
“Oh because she’s sooo beautiful and extra special” my twins agreed and my daughter seems completely unfazed by this revelation, while the angry voice inside me screamed, NOOOOOO, no she’s not, she’s not beautiful, she’s not special, no no no no no no no. My child is beautiful, my child is special, mine, mine, mine.
Out loud I again tried to sound nonchalant when I said, “You know I think you guys are pretty special.”
“Yup” my twins agreed and almost in unison said, “God made us special and he loves us very much.”
Not that it exactly made me feel much better, but at that point I decided to cut my losses. In retrospect, I know the girl in question and from her mothers own mouth the reason these boys like her daughter so much is because she is willing to play the game the way the boys tell her to play. In other words she is compliant. My daughter is many things but compliant is just not really one of them and while at times this makes life challenging I would not have it any other way. My daughter is not going to do what someone else tells her to do just because they tell her to do it unless she has determined it is something she wants to do. She has a mind of her own and I take comfort in knowing that my daughter will not be a “follower.” Her independence will serve her well in life. Now all I have to do is grow up enough not to feel threatened by a popular four year old. A lesson my daughter seems to have already learned.
The second e
vent occurred later that week when I took my daughter to her second ballet lesson. She was joining an already established class and as such was a bit “out of the loop.” The first lesson in an effort to help her catch up I taped the recital dance so she could learn it on her own. However all week long she decided she had other things to do, so there I sat on lesson day watching other girls twirl effortlessly to the steps while my own daughter did half steps. As I sat I felt anger rising. She talks about wanting to dance, she wanted these lessons, she goes on and on about wanting to dance on a stage, and when she has the chance she doesn’t practice, she doesn’t even really try. And then I remembers my own father, when I was only six and doing well as a swimmer. He would watch the practices and tell me things I could do better, how I could swim better, be better and how this killed any joy I had for swimming. I quit swimming after two years and it took me almost ten years to go back to it. So I resolved to let my daughter dance and to let it be her way and if that way is badly then let it be badly. I will let her enjoy her dancing and as for my competition… maybe its time for me to go back to road races.*who shall remain nameless mostly because it doesn’t matter what her name is, what matters is what she represents which is anyone who I have ever felt inferior to.
