It’s the Thought that Counts. Hopefully…

If I had a dollar for every time this scenario has played out in our family, well. . . let’s just say the kids wouldn’t need to become professional tennis players. This story comes from D, who, we’re happy to report, didn’t lose any of her digits to frostbite after this incident with her 6-year-old twins.

Tonight my kids had their first real tennis lesson.  Sadly, “real” also meant challenging in an over the top way.  It was a group lesson with “strangers” and so beyond my kid’s skill level that I spent the hour wincing, sighing, and nearly needing to tape my mouth shut to insure I didn’t yell out things to try to help my kids get through it (“Both hands on the racket, N, or you’ll have to run another lap!” “Focus, E, before Coach tells you he ‘has 3 year olds better at this’ again!”). There was so much new vocabulary and technique — I assumed my kids brains had to be totally overloaded. I was worried about my daughter’s reaction yet watched her stick it out and give it her all even though she missed every ball and had trouble with every skill.  I knew it had to be really difficult for her.  She has a hard time trying things she knows she’ll have to practice and practice before she can do them — especially in front of other people. My son got lucky and managed to hang in there amazingly well skill-wise. But my thoughts were streaming: “Is he going to be able to follow a whole hour lesson once it’s not so overwhelming? Is he doomed in life because he hits “his wall” so hard he does things like unconsciously tap his racket on the court regardless of the numerous threats from the coach to stop doing that? Or appearing defiant by not helping clean up the balls only because he’s so tired/overwhelmed he gets distracted along the way by the leaves on the ground?”  He also made it through the lesson, no complaints, all the while trying his best.  I was really proud of both of them.

So where is the World’s Worst Mom worthy moment in this?  First let me add that is was 36 degrees during this lesson and I live in Las Vegas.  We are not used to the cold here, and this is the coldest it has been this winter — of course perfect timing for my kids’ first outside tennis lesson.  I envisioned them quitting in 10 minutes due to frozen fingers.  Prior to leaving the house, I ran around getting the kids warm coats, but ones they could move well in, gloves, but ones with rubber palms so they could keep hold of the racket in them, hats and waters.  All while they complained, why did they have to leave the house, can’t they stay home and play, and more whines and blah blah blahs.  Time was getting short.  I grabbed my jacket and off we went.  Then I sat on a cold bench for an hour and turned, literally almost, to ice.

Ok, so I still haven’t explained where I completely went wrong, but. . . back to my kids whining and complaining as we were getting out the door.  Somewhere in there I laid the groundwork for my demise.  I promised they could play at the playground next to the courts for 10 minutes after the lesson.  That cheered them right up and they were “in.” And ten minutes sounded easy and even realistic since this was a late lesson and we couldn’t play the night away.  I intended to keep my promise.

The lesson ended (it felt like 3 hours) and I was fairly worked up from above mentioned trials and tribulations.  Will they hate tennis?  Was this a total mistake?  Why didn’t the coach warn me that they would be practicing with Wimbledon protégés?  Why the hell hadn’t I brought my own hat and gloves and an actual coat for God’s sake?  Why hadn’t I bought some Uggs to wear so I might still have feeling in my feet?  Why didn’t I eat a few more bites of dinner instead of focusing solely on making sure the kids didn’t head to their lesson hungry?  As these thoughts bombarded me, the kids ran straight past me to bee line for the playground.  I planned to praise how sincerely proud I was of how they persevered during their first tennis lesson and how great E improved at her forehand and how N killed it with his overhand.  How exciting it was that they were going to really learn tennis — they would be amazing and have so much fun with just some practice and determination.  Instead, I hollered out, “I don’t know if I can do the playground — let’s save it for next time!”

And that’s were we went down hill fast.  My daughter yelled out with a voice full of drama, “You promised!” and my son kept right on running saying, “Yeah, you promised!”  I had a brief moment of trying to suck it up, run in place, and use mind over matter — of course, I could last a bit longer in the dark, cold park.  But the moment faded fast into me saying sternly, “I am giving you 2 minutes and then we are leaving!” They replied with more whining which caused me to flip a switch from calm, nice Mommy to under-appreciated, hurt, and mad Mommy.  I laid into them with a lecture that would be one for the books.  Really, I went on and on:  they are disappointing me by not caring about my well being — I am frozen to the bone (in hindsight I don’t even think I initially explained that I was so cold I could barely stand another second outside), they are disrespecting me by not listening the first time to what I am telling them (while I disregarded that this was to be the highlight of their day and they’d earned it by golly — I didn’t even bother to mention they could play twice as long next week to make up for it), they are not being flexible to understand that plans have changed (though I think I might have started walking to the car before I even gave them 30 seconds of the 2 minutes that was originally to be a whole whopping 10 minutes). 

I set off toward the car without them, yelling the whole way.  They slinked in, defeated, and started to cry.  My daughter cried out, “We didn’t get to even have 5 minutes of fun today!” and my son yelled, “Mom, we just wanted to play like you said we would!”

My kids were totally mentally and physically exhausted, cold, and emotional from just trying their best through a challenging and awkward new situation.  Yet, I laid it on THICK and rubbed it in at least 3 times.  I did try to save face about half way through the car ride home, but somehow I don’t think that really cut it.  It amazes me how I can be thinking one thing in my brain (save the lecture for later, work on the kid’s listening skills and thoughtful qualities another time) and my mouth can be spouting out something entirely different.

I have been reading this blog for months without posting.  Guess I saved up to contribute a doozie.