Today I heard my 8 year old son say to me "Mom, when will you let me be me?"
That stabbed me straight to the heart. I had thought I was a mom that encouraged her kids to celebrate their God given gifts and loves, but today my son pointed out where I had failed.
To properly explain my now enlightened issue I need to give a brief method to my madness. You may be wondering in what part of Aiden's life he feels controlled by me and you'll be shocked...it's sports. I know! Those who know me know that other than Colorado hockey and my beloved Utes I couldn't care less about sports. However I did have a son and in my brainwashed brain--those things play sports.
My immediate family is not athletic. Well Joy is...sort of, but for the most part we Swenson 4 did not participate in sports, watch most sports, encourage sports, etc. My mom told stories of playing softball and she will cheer on the Utah Jazz and Utes on the television, but Ed, Big Daddy and I just don't have it in us.
My extended family was all about sports. My Uncle famously paces his living rooms and takes mini walks during particularly intense University of Utah games and it seemed when I was a kid that I was the odd man out since nearly all of my cousins played (and were very good) sports. I had one cousin that was a golf phenom and one that could literally excel at anything. I on the other hand was given these goofy, skinny, uncoordinated limbs that repelled athletics. I was similar to a baby deer...for 15 years. The kids in school or in my large extended family that were good at sports were important. There were always stories about these kids and their attributes and the adults would beam with pride. No one told stories about the kid that likes to draw (me) except for the super awesome tales about my negative attitude and sailor mouth (negative attention is after all attention). I noticed that no matter how snotty or rude my athletic cousins could be on occasion (you know you had your moments) it never mattered; they were good at sports.
When I was pregnant with Aiden we would joke about how we'd love for him to play hockey and do us proud. When Aiden was born I knew in the pit of my stomach I had just sort of cloned myself and that any dreams I had of this supremely sporty son were probably just dreams. As Aiden grew I taught him what I knew--art and music. I had him painting in the garage at 10 months old (the paint stains are still there irritating my husband) and learning about Pollack at 2 while creating his own version. The minute he saw The Nightmare Before Christmas my son had only one goal in his tiny 3 year old brain...to be Tim Burton. His days are filled with art even 5 years later, he makes stop motion movies with his 3DS and has written countless books (all in true Aiden/Burton fashion mildly creepy) and only dreams of being an author and movie maker. In the background I had these questions to answer: "what sports do Aiden play?", "Oh {insert name here} is such a great athlete already, what does your son do?" and when "he's an artist" didn't impress them I started pushing sports.
First there was soccer. Honestly my least favorite sport and I was secretly happy when he despised it. Golf has been on and off since his dad enjoys to play and he even tried out my favorite hockey. Swimming was the most promising and he moved his way up to the highest level. He pushed thru a summer of 2 hours a day practices with screaming coaches and 8 hour long swim meets. My Aiden even won some medals but I assume I cared much more than he ever did.
Today while driving to his guitar practice I told him that swim clinics were starting back up and he should probably start working on his strokes for summer meets. Aiden was not happy about this conversation and said, "Mom I. Don't. Like. Sports." to which I answered "You need to do something with yourself" and he looked at me and said "I do a lot of things, I play the guitar, draw, write books and make movies. When will you let me be me?" Ouch. Keep in mind that my sports career is limited to the few years I danced and the smidge of cross country that I quit to pursue smoking; I, in no way, had any right to push my mini me into sports. I sat during his lesson and went over the last 8 years in my mind. I have a son that loves to create things. I have a son that is humane, sincere, honest and loyal to his core. I have a son that lists his favorite bands as Weezer, the Beatles and the Shins. I have a son that actually knows who Modigliani is. I should be ashamed of myself for trying to turn him into anything else. The next time someone asks me what sports my son plays I will be 100% comfortable and proud to say..."He has better things to do."
**sidenote--according to Scott that last bit could be taken as a stab to those people that love sports. I'm not meaning to offend he just has things he finds better to do.
***extra sidenote---The little one shows promise...putting all our sporting pressure on Sophie.
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