The Ordinary Devoted Parent

Traveling soccer is the number one public enemy of piano practice time. To be fair--high school marching band is number two.  As Bill and I drive by the Blue Cross Blue Shield soccer fields on Saturday morning with the kids, we casually ask, I wonder what those kids did--that they are being punished like that--to have to run around that field with those funny clothes on?  Bless their hearts.

Come to think of it--marching band is not that much different.  You got the field, you got the funny clothes. . . someone on the sidelines frantically waving his arms. ..

In may seem incongruous to all of us that I hired a lady with "hockey-soccer-mom" in her email address to help watch my children while I teach piano.  The Lord works in mysterious ways. . . almost four years have gone by and she hasn't attempted to convert either of my children to hockey or soccer.  We have a mutual trust.

In keeping with my research on intrinsic motivation, I asked her, Mary Lynn, mother of four grown children to share her thoughts.  One of her daughters is a captain on the University of Minnesota women's soccer team.  Go Gophers!  This is every little soccer girl's dream.  To reach the pinnacle of her sport and pay for college by playing. Wow. I asked Mary Lynn what she and her husband did to motivate Tamara along the way.

Had they paid her to practice?  Had they set up little charts and stickers?  Was Dad on the sidelines swearing when she missed a goal?  Midnight dribbling exercises?  What age did she make it her own?  All these questions I have.

Turns out it wasn't that complicated from Mary Lynn's point of view.  She said--they always stayed for practice and games. They never just dropped off their kids. When the kids were little Dad did a little coaching. (I happen to know that they are also very supportive in other ways--for example--volunteering their labor and resources to the U to build a picnic shelter where parents and families can hang out and share a meal before and after soccer games)  She also said that growing up the whole family went to a lot of college and pro soccer and hockey events around town.  It was just part of their life.  Mostly though, they just showed up.  Showed up for practice after practice, game after game. No tiger mom. No bull-dog dad.

Ordinary devoted parents.  (That's not my phrase--it is Edmond Sprunger's--in Helping Parents Practice, his practicing bible published by Yes publishing.)

Turns out that is all our kids really need. Not super mom. Not jock coach dad. Just ordinary devoted parents.  That is how we help our kids meet their potentials.

I'm so relieved. I think I can do that.