Watch Them Soar

“Two great things you can give your children: one is roots, the other is wings.”

–H. Carter

Sometimes I read or notice something that sticks with me, changes my perspective, and helps me see that maybe there’s a better way than the way I've been doing it.

That is what happened today when I read the words of Debbie Phelps, mother of world champion swimmer, Michael. In the interview, Debbie described how Michael packed and carried his swim bag from an early age. When he forgot his goggles in a competition and looked to his mother for assistance, she raised her empty hands and he swam without them.

I must admit, those words were difficult to read.

I’d packed a hockey bag for my sons late last night. And I knew that if skates were forgotten, I would have frantically gone home to get them … even with our street being slurry sealed at 7:00 am… so they wouldn't be without … so they wouldn't fail.

And I knew I did a disservice to my boys.

Why? Because my boys were fully capable of packing hockey bags for themselves.

The bag is just an example, but I knew there were probably more instances when I did something for my boys that they could do for themselves. And the reason? Because doing it myself meant less chance of things being forgotten and less chance I’d hear complaining. Plus, I've spent many years of being responsible—so letting go of control and allowing things to simply BE is hard for me.

But by doing things for my boys that they could do for themselves, I realized I am preventing them from reaching their full potential.

When Markus ran out on to the soccer field at hockey camp today and proudly took his place at the front of the pack, I cheered and cheered, but he didn't hear me. He didn't even look in my direction.  Because he was focused on running and listening to what his coaches were saying.

I started on my run. And that’s when tears sprung to my eyes.

Not because my son didn't even glance my way.

Not because I could see clearly that as time goes on, I will be needed less and less.

And not because my son is fine making decisions without me.

I cried because I was witnessing a wondrous sight. Right before my very eyes, I saw a glimpse of my son reaching his potential.

And I knew that a moment such as this can only be seen from a distance—when I stand back and watch in quiet joy as my sons soar, carrying my love and support upon their small, but sturdy shoulders.

Three hours of independent HDA later, after a run, trip to the bank, car wash and a shower have occurred. Much to my surprise, water bottles have not been forgotten, no one has struggled to tie their own skates, and sticks have not been left behind in the locker room. And if these things had occurred, it would be okay. They might have been a little uncomfortable. They might have had to problem-solve. They might have had to use a bit of their savings to buy a replacement—but it wouldn't have been the end of the world.

Plus, I noticed something. As these boys carried their bags out of camp without the help of moi, independence is being seen in other areas. In fact, their independence inspired me to not feel guilty about the mandatory skills meeting I have to attend at work tomorrow. I knew this meant the boys would have to be by themselves at camp tomorrow and since I had never left Markus at the rink alone, worries flooded my mind. What if they miss their group? Who will help them tape their sticks?

I knew the answer: my boys would do it. 

What are the positive things you have noticed from watching your children do things for themselves?

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P.S. Guess who forgot his jerseys at the high school game tonight? Max, and of course I ran home to get them for him. lol