What Does She Do?

I've caught up with a few friends with kids lately, and the conversation inevitably turns to what activities our kids are participating in during [insert season]. As usual, my kid isn't doing shit.

We started out strong. We put her in Twinkle Toes ballet class starting at two, and she followed it through up until last December, when she hung up her leotard after class went to twice a week with an hour-long round-trip commute. She took gymnastics for a year, long enough to convince me to buy the expensive leotard she ended  up wearing maybe five times. It was easier when she was wee -- all I had to do was drive her to wherever and we'd sit through an hour of music class or tumbling or what have you. Now she's older and opinions, she's got them. 

She just doesn't care.

We've lined up another mom to watch her while I work for the majority of summer vacation. She'll be with two of her best friends doing whatever it is kids do when their moms are off during the summer. There will be gaps, and I tried to interest her in drama camp or robot camp or basketball camp, but she had zero interest in any of them, and at the end of the day, paying hundreds of dollars and driving halfway across the city when I'm supposed to be working for something she'll protest seems ridiculous.

I dangled swimming in front of her yesterday, but she flipped over in the pool and demonstrated that she already knows how to swim with non-race-worthy proficiency, point taken. 

And then I asked myself for the hundredth time why I care. 

It's probably because I shit you not every single other mother I know has her kids in at least one sport or lesson each, usually multiple leagues of multiple sports all happening at the same time. When I was growing up, I myself took dance lessons and drama lessons and drum lessons and any camp I could get my hands on. I was spending a week at sleepaway horse camp once a summer by the time I was her age.

My daughter doesn't care.

On the flip side, her complete and total lack of involvement in any extracurricular activities has left her available to go visit her friend Ka'Vyea in the hospital. She's played quite a bit of pick-up cul-de-sac kickball. Her dolls are all currently in the doll hospital for various broken bones she lovingly wrapped with gauze and signed like casts. We spent all day this past Sunday and Monday at the swimming pool, floating lazily on our backs and eating Starburst. She made paper lanterns for our Memorial Day cookout of her own volition.

I'm ambivalent. I spent my whole life ambitious, and sometimes I feel like I've lost my ambition when it comes to trying to get my daughter to participate in things. I worry I've been worn down by this working-mama gig to the point where I'm taking the unnecessarily easy way out, that I should force her to get more involved.

I absolutely insist that she behave and wear age-appropriate clothing and her seatbelt and eat her vegetables. But I've been letting her completely self-direct on most activities. Beloved and I agree we'll make her take band or strings for at least a year, because MATH and ART and CULTURE, but if after that year she wants to chuck it, I'd let her.

But then I find myself justifying it. It's not like she's sitting around cooking meth while she's home. And when I start talking to the other mothers I question whether I shouldn't be pushing her harder to do something that requires sign-ups and special shoes and schedules. People say over and over they think it's so great she's all Free-to-Be-You-and-Me, but then I look at their kids and see eight different uniforms and a piano practice book and a calendar full to popping and I think they would never ever let their kid opt out of all competition.

I hope I'm doing this right. The sad thing is, at ten, she's already past the point of no return for a lot of sports. Fifth grade is too old to start anything that could be played as league starting at age four in a suburb my size. 

Sometimes it feels like there's no which way but loose when it comes to modern parenting.