This time of year is dominated by school clothes shopping, last-chance trips to the pool and my son trying to stay awake as long as possible on the few nights left of summer. Before we know it, we will be immersed in email reminders from teachers, midnight runs to the all-night drug store for forgotten poster board, and interminable hours spent in our cars: picking up, dropping off, shuttling less-than-grateful offspring from one activity to the next. Regularly, I hear complaints from my parent clients that, by mid-October, they are depleted and snarky about the time and energy requirements their kids' busy lives suck from their parentS' energy stores. And there are still more than 7 months left of the school year. I routinely give my clients the same recommendation. SCALE BACK. And do it without guilt!! Well, this year, I hang my head in shame to realize I have fallen into the very same trap I warn other parents about. Physician, heal thyself? Ha!! At this point, I'd need a team of Harvard-educated specialists to scale me back to any sane expectations of myself or my abilities. This year, my soon-to-be high schooler was accepted to his school's auspicious show choir. As part of his participation, it was "suggested" that he make the most of his "vocal gifts" by beginning weekly voice lessons. With a member of the Lyric Opera. (Cha-ching!) And of course, show choir members must also participate in the school's regular choir. Both groups, of course, rehearse on different days, for several hours at a time. Add to that menu of all-things-singing related the various fundraisers each student is expected to run, to augment the FOUR-FIGURE fee that's been passed on to parents for their little stars' inclusion in these illustrious organizations. Not to mention the time, money and energy that will be added to our energy depletion when he tries out for the four plays and two musicals produced yearly by the school. And now my future Hugh Jackman would like to hone his critiquing skills by reviewing current movies, with the mission of saving his peers from wasting time and money on a film unworthy of them. Now, I know that WE choose to have these children join our lives, and I believe in providing my child with every academic and cultural opportunity in which he's interested. But, when he got a role in a summer theatre musical, and I was sitting in a church parking lot at 11:30 pm on a rainy Wednesday night (the fourth consecutive day, I might add), sweating in my pajamas because I was afraid I'd run out of gas if I used the energy on the defroster, I seriously considered praying that my son be struck mute or, at the very least, suffer a week-long bout of laryngitis. I am coming precariously close to becoming one of those parents who earn the mockery and eye-rolling of other (read: saner) parents. One of those parents who will sacrifice sleep, groceries, and the wearing of daytime clothing to further their little performer's budding career. While I would love nothing more than to see my son make his debut on the Great White Way, in my more logical moments, I have to question whether I am truly HELPING my son by supporting all these activities. I can't remember the last time my child complained, "I'm bored!" How could he? He can rarely remember to bring his backpack/song sheets/glasses home from his dad's or to eat more than a granola bar before we rush off to the next rehearsal/lesson/performance. I've never been a big fan of technology, but isn't part of being a teenager spending hours on the phone with friends talking about nothing in particular, and playing video games until he qualifies for carpal tunnel surgery? I may sound like I'm advocating for our kids to lower their sights for their futures, that I'm suggesting they skip a few classes and hang out on the "smoking lot" (remember that?) rather than aim for developing their artistic gifts or athletic skills. But don't we want our children to learn that success takes all forms? While getting into Harvard or being a first round draft pick is commendable, I'd like my son to value his ability to be a good friend, to be creative in his use of free time, to be willing to stretch and try activities he's wretched at just to see if they are FUN. The time has come for me to put my money where my mouth is. When the show choir director "recommends" dance class or acting tutorials, I may best be advocating for my son if I answer "No, I don't think so." Keeping my night shirt and sweat pants ensemble INSIDE my four walls is a gift my neighbors will appreciate.
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