One of the main reasons I chose to write and publish A Moment of Quiet is Nothing to Fear is to further inspire the ongoing dialogue within households, amongst friends and throughout our communities about how to safeguard one of life's most precious resources, time.
As I considered this topic in the context of my own children, ages 8, 6 and 2, I uncovered some interesting insights. First of all, I freely admit that my kids are busy. We don't spend every afternoon dreaming up creative puppet shows and hand crafting friendship bracelets. But I will say that when we do, my little ones are not only heart-meltingly happy, but stunningly well-behaved. That dose of undivided attention seems to buy me a period of easy compliance until the final steps of our nightly routine roll into a happy tuck-in at a reasonable hour.
My third grader is particularly aware of the concept of a schedule. She can recite not only her weekly round-up of commitments, but also elaborate on where her friends are spread throughout the city dancing, tumbling, and skating to their hearts' delight. However, she has become protective of the days she likes to keep "open" and she definitely does not mourn the close of the soccer season. What I have learned from her is that her free time represents something she values and is willing to safeguard despite the many tempting options available to fill her calendar.
My kids have not yet entered the world of competitive sports. I'll get back to you on this topic in a few years. But what I've observed at this stage of their athletic pursuits is that it really isn't about the game. It's about the fun. And it's about the friendships.
As a soccer coach for kindergarten and first grade girls, I used to lose half my team to daisy-picking and gopher hunting about 20 minutes into practice. Part of me felt like I was failing as an instructor, but I gradually learned that there was great value to giving the girls the opportunity to bond however it was natural for them, especially after a long day at school. My take-away from early organized athletics is to only participate if it feels like fun for your child. Developmentally, some kids are just not ready for it and the caliber of play will not impact your child's future All-Star potential.
My two-year-old has been rather hung out to dry when it comes to extra-curriculars. As the caboose on our party train, he is kept busy as a team mascot, and we have largely avoided adding activities for him into our over-loaded calendar. I'm completely fine with it now that I have a little perspective on the matter.
When I recently asked my daughter if she remembered a ballet teacher she had for more than two years during preschool, she said no. In fact, she had only a dim recollection of the our weekly tutu'ed trips to the dance studio. But as my first child, and only girl, I thought she HAD to to have this enriching experience. Interestingly, although she showed promise as a dancer, she has little interest in pursuing it more seriously. Now that I've offered her the choice, this expensive, time-consuming and seemingly enjoyable activity no longer rates as a priority.
Lesson learned - eventually our kids will enlighten us about what makes them happy. Filling their time until they can genuinely identify their interests is tempting. And it can expose them to a vast array of available options. But in hindsight, I would advise you to choose sparingly. The running around and missed moments when we could have played and and relaxed together now feel like an opportunity cost I paid while bumbling through the uninformed early years of parenting.
As I think about what I've learned it's important for me to express that my call to action is NOT to organize a commando boycott of scheduled activities in our children's lives. It is rather, that we offer greater value to the importance of SOMETIMES not doing anything, of facing boredom and climbing over it with imaginary machete in hand.
In my house, I'm working hard to create situations where kids complain about having nothing to do. Hearing this sends a smile to my lips and no longer sparks my natural ire.
If they are lucky, I may toss out a few vanilla ideas like, "make a fort," "have a dance party," or "organize a fashion show." It's amazing what a large cardboard box, a wooden spoon and a few old scarves can become when you teach your children that A Moment of Quiet is Nothing to Fear.