I am the first to admit that I am a high strung person. Type A. Hard on myself. I have high expectations, mostly of myself, and the to-do lists to prove it. I worry. I put so much pressure on myself to do it right, and sometimes, that pressure rolls over onto my little children.
I don’t think I am the only mother who does this.
Last year, Bug played baseball with a team on base for the first time. It was coach pitch, and his team was full of 6 and 7 year old kids. I thought we were getting started early. I thought we had plenty of time for him to hone is skills.
Oh my gosh, If those 6 year old children hadn’t been pitching, and catching, and batting for years, he may have stood a chance.
I want my kids to go to college. I want them to grow up to be successful, and I want their lives to be easy, and I don’t want them to want for anything.
That means they need to be competitive.
They need to specialize in something now.
They need to push harder.
They need to be the best.
Ready for the draft.
As a homeschool mother, I’m not only worried about these extra curriculars…. it feels like there is so much MORE. What about transcripts? Tests? What if I don’t start Latin now, will he do well on the vocab section of the SAT? If we can’t get the math facts memorized, how will he ever be ready for algebra in 6th grade? What about having a good foundation in the sciences? What if we aren’t rigorous enough now? We only have 11 years left before it’s time to apply to college!
Does this sound crazy to you?
It is crazy. It’s down right insane. But, its not just me. Its society. We’ve all gone whack-a-doodle.
So what is to be done? For one, I need to breathe. My son is 6. It’s okay if he’s not the best ball player on the team. It’s okay if he doesn’t learn Latin at all. It’s okay for us to play outside in the dirt, and take a day off to go to the zoo, or just lay around the house playing board games.
Today, my 6 year old, who takes after me in too many ways, spent an hour in self-inflicted perfectionist agony. He’s been learning to write in cursive, and I gave him an assignment. He was simply to copy a story I had written out with proper spelling and punctuation. He decided since he was learning cursive, he could then write the whole THING in cursive.
Guess what happened? Frustration and tears.
The “imperfect” cursive looks pretty darn good to me.
I’ve got to be a better example to the kid.
I need to show him that it’s okay to try and fail. It’s okay to not know how.
After taking a snack break, some hugs, and laughing baby videos on you tube, he was able to finish his paper. In manuscript.
I think he’ll still get into college.