Parenting Confession

This is a painful, raw, real confession. It is something I am ashamed of, so I do not think this writing will ever be for public consumption. But writing is how I process and I am trying to get the words down so I can process this uncomfortable emotion better.

I think I figured out partly why I wish my children engaged in more activities: So I could better bond and connect with other parents. Yes. My worries about my kids’ lack of activities really comes down to my own insecurities.

I see other parents driving their kids around to practices, cheering them on the fields over the weekends, helping them to curate their special interests and develop friendships and passion and life skills, and I feel left out. I would love to watch my children participate in an activity in which I could cheer them on. I would love to bond with other parents, complaining about the busy schedules and pressures our children are under and how little time that leaves for ourselves. I would love to see my children develop interests that make adults around them proud.

This is more than a little ridiculous. I am a grown woman who is 40 years of age. I am a full professor with an endowed chair at a research university. I am old enough and accomplished enough to realize on a deep level that my children’s accomplishments are far from my own.

I think perhaps this feeling of insecurity arose from my own childhood – in which I was always odd, never quite assimilated, on the outside looking in. When I had my own children, I would make sure they had the “right” experience, whatever “right” could possibly be. I would start involving them in organized activities at a young age so that they had plenty of time to find their passion. I would prioritize security and stability over adventure and novelty so that they did not move around and had the same core group of friends throughout childhood. I would be happy to host children at our house, happy to host parties and get together, happy to facilitate connections and relationships among my children.

Only I can now report that those actions, while nice, are fairly superfluous. Our children are who they are going to be, which is to say, not very interested in organized activities. Our kids are not at the center of any social group. Which is perfectly fine. And what is embarrassing and shameful is I have involved my kids in this nonsense. As if I felt that having children would somehow fill a hole within myself, as if they would meet needs I was unable to take care of on my own. Now that I have verbalized this underlying drive, I can articulate just how ridiculous this is. Our kids are people of their own. They are certainly not there to meet any unfulfilled needs on my end. And I need to concentrate more on how to best meet their needs rather than attempting to satisfy my own.

So maybe our kids do not have a clear passion. Maybe they are not drawn to organized activities. Maybe they will always be on the periphery of groups. But they are terrific people. They are funny, bright, insightful, creative, imaginative, unique, and independent individuals. And those very attributes are well worth celebrating.