I never thought I'd be one
of those mothers who lived through her children, but I guess I am. I
was never any good at sports, although I always wanted to be. (I
didn't want to play the sports; I just wanted to be good at them.)
But my parents wanted me to experience competition and have
something to put on my college applications, so I took karate, which
I did like. I also took swimming lessons and in high school I was
in the synchronized swimming group. I liked that too; I didn't know
it was nerdy until the kids saw my yearbook and pointed it out. But
it did look good on the applications, since it showed that I knew how
to be part of a team.
So I was surprised last night at dinner
when Cilla said that she didn't want to do soccer any more. She said
it was stupid and wanted to know what difference it made who won. I
didn't know what to say, since I felt the same way. Ed pointed out
that she got exercise, she got to be with other kids, and she got to
learn how to work with others.
Cilla pointed out that she got lots of
exercise at dance class and that she saw other kids all the time. Or
as she put it, other kids were “Coming in the windows.” She also
wondered why it was good to know how to work with others just so you
all could win a stupid game, which didn't make any difference to
anything.
What surprised me wasn't that Cilla
didn't want to do soccer, but that I wanted her to. The athletes are
considered cool in high school, and if you're going to be any good,
you have to start in grade school, or even pre-K. I was not cool; I
was in the nerd crowd. We spent our time trying to get good grades,
doing things to put on our college applications (like Chess Club and
orchestra) and reading. I pointed out that if she quit she was
ruining her chances and if in a few years she changed her mind it
would be too late. I reminded her of the synchronized swimming
picture in my yearbook and asked her if she wanted to end up like
me.
“Really, Charlie, is your life that
terrible?” Ed was starting to get huffy,
“Oh, not now. But it was in high
school.” I thought of my friends' and my telling ourselves we were
Intellectual and deep down wishing we were Cool.
Josh assumed his Father Josh personna.
“Now, Cilla, you're breaking Mommy's heart. You don't want to do
that do you?”
Betsey would have said I could just
suck it up, although in a more polite way, and maybe throw in that I
didn't care if she was miserable.
But fortunately for me, Cilla didn't
want to break my heart and she started crying. Then she got up and
flung herself at me. “Oh, Mother, I am sorry that you were
a nerd.” and cried some more, just like a Bette Davis movie.
Over Cilla's head I saw Betsey mouth
“drama queen” to Josh. Ed just looked like a dad; concerned,
but having no idea what to do. Finally, he had an idea. “Now,
Cilla, we've paid for this semester and bought your new uniform and
it would be shame to waste all that money. I'll call and find out if
we can get it back, but if we can't you'll have to do the fall
season. If we can get it back you can quit.”
We weren't able to get the money back,
so Cilla is still going to soccer. That's the good news (at least I
think so). The bad news is that after every game she points out how
stupid the whole thing is. Actually, I think she has a point.
