Football and Philosophizing

A football post without a single football photo. This isn't what you think it will be.

 Evie and I spent our day yesterday making 140 enchiladas for Ben's football team.  How long did it take to roll 140 enchiladas, you may wonder.  The answer is almost two hours.  The things we do for our kids . . .

We took the three littlest kids with us to watch the game.  Ben had a great game--GREAT game.  A touchdown, a two-point conversion, a punt block, two pass receptions, and quite a few great tackles.  It was not the most interesting of games; in fact, I can't even remember the final score, but it was something like 287-0  ;o).  I always feel bad for the losing team when they lose that bad.

We sat in a pack of our friends and Ben's friends, talking and laughing and occasionally letting out appropriate cheers for the action on the field.  I don't know how the conversation turned this direction, but I overheard Micah saying, "I'm the musician. Tucker's the singer. Heidi's the oldest and most perfect. Hyrum's the  . . . " and Hyrum quickly said, " . . . artist . . ." as Micah continued with "Ben's the athlete. We don't know what Evie is yet.  What's Lily?"

I found myself bristling at the chosen labels for himself and each of his siblings. I try very hard to not label each of them--to allow them each to find their path and try different things.  I always hope that they don't compare themselves to each other, but his evaluations struck me.  No matter how hard I try, they do compare themselves to each other--compare their strength to another's weakness, and conversely, their weakness to another's strength.

I wondered: Is this okay?  Is it healthy?  Should I try to change his perceptions? Is he wrong, or is he mostly correct? Do I do this?

Although I'm not blind to my children's weaknesses, I see each child as so much more than their achievements and challenges.

Ben is so much more to me than "the athlete."  He is brilliant, kind, thoughtful, quite silly, and one of the wittiest people you'll ever meet.  He also struggles to focus on boring school work, procrastinates horribly, and leaves his room a stinky pile of "athlete" much of the time.

Lily loves people and reality TV, but she's so much more than that.  She sparkles, and when she walks into the room, you know it.  She's a great tumbler, and she has more tenacity to conquer a challenge than anyone else I know. She also fights to control her tongue, her temper, and the clutter accumulated on her bathroom counter from trying so many different hairstyles and nail polishes.

Although Micah is a great piano player, he also writes clever and original stories, loves mythology and reading, and enjoys soccer and basketball. He remembers to make his bed almost every morning but rarely remembers to take his library books back to school.  And for all his trumpeting about his piano skills, I wish he wouldn't yell, "I HATE PIANO!" at least once a week.

Hyrum has the astounding ability to make me flaming angry one moment, then in the next split second make me hug him till his stuffing pops out.  He fills reams of paper with his drawings, can almost outrun his older brother, and can complete sixth-grade level logic puzzles, yet I already see him resigning himself to never playing the piano as well as Micah, and he pulls back when faced with tasks he deems too difficult, like reading a book that I know he is fully capable of reading.

Miss Evie--she's still so young, but being the baby of seven exposes you to things earlier than the older kids were.  She copies Hyrum's love for art.  She knows every word to Lily's favorite songs on the radio.  She plinks out a few notes on the piano, with Micah's music spread out before her.  Yet I see part of her own little self in there, still developing and getting ready to surface: Hints of a dancer? Simple math problems at her age? Hair stylist? Who is she?

My two older kids have grown into amazing adults who have taken their personal strengths and used them well.  I see them both still struggle with challenges, but I also love who they are becoming--changing the perceptions of who they always thought they would become into who they actually are now.

Who are these children of mine?  Do I define them by their abilities or challenges, or do I try each day to see them for not only who they are, but who they can become?  How do I help them to see past these self-imposed and society-imposed labels placed upon them? How do I encourage them to try new things, even if it's scary to possibly fail? How do I walk the line between effective teacher, unflagging cheerleader, and grounded realist? Do I expect too much of them?  Not enough?  How do I find that balance? Do I allow them the space to change who they are--who they think they are or will be--and embrace their new life direction? This is one of the great tests of motherhood, and our children are the hapless experiments.  And this may be the greatest question of all--How do I accomplish all of this without them needing years of therapy to correct my mistakes?

Who knew so many deep thoughts could be triggered by a painfully one-sided victory on the football field?

What are your thoughts on this?