As Seen in the July Issue of Bella Magazine

Recently I took time away from my busy laundry schedule to drive a bunch of sophomores on a field trip.

We went to the ballet. I sat in between two of my favorite lively 10th graders…Mark on my left, Alex on my right. Alex is my oldest son. He’s not yet 17 but he has way more facial hair than American Idol’s David Archuletta, and a much deeper voice, too. I imagined this seating arrangement would keep everyone happy and I waved merrily to the other chaperones as the show began.

To introduce the production, the Director called out some Tiny Dancers. They were in elementary school but announced that they had been dancing for years and years…and years.
As the lights dimmed, Alex leaned over to me and dropped this bomb. “I could have been something, you know. If only you had encouraged me, I would have been good at something by now.” The curtain opened as I squeaked out, in dismay, “Did you want to dance?”

In an audible (read: REALLY LOUD AT THE BALLET) voice, he replied, “No, but I was a prodigy at gymnastics. You never encouraged me.”

For this I’m skipping my laundry duty? I fumed all the way through the performance. Is this my legacy? I’ve created scrapbooks of every report card, art project and potty training picture, but I haven’t encouraged you? Is that the accusation? I sat through decades of T-ball games, laughed at thousands of knock-knock jokes and told you I loved you every single day of your life. Not encouraging? Was it all for naught? I was speechless.

After the performance, I shared the story with two mom friends. I guess I was a teensy, eensy bit upset. I’m afraid I was ranting. “Prodigy!“ I sputtered, “We didn’t have time for a prodigy!“ The moms laughed at my declaration. One friend, let’s call her Mrs. Smith, said,
“You didn’t have TIME for a PRODIGY! HAHAHAH! Good one! You are hilarious!”

Here’s the thing. I wasn’t kidding.

We had five kids in 6 ½ years. Alex really was a gifted young athlete. He sat up at 3 months old, no kidding. At nine months old, he scaled the toy cupboard. I counted to three, meaning, “You’re in trouble now, buster.” When I got to three, he jumped. He was fearless.

At age two, he could do the hand-over-hand at the playground. Without diapers, he was so skinny his pants fell down around his ankles. He kept going. His dad and I watched crowds form. One kids yelled, “Hey, it’s Amazing Boy! That kid is amazing!” We still call him Amazing Boy around the house. With different parents, and fewer siblings, he could be on his way to the Olympics right now. But that was not to be.

I’m sorry, Alex. You are the oldest of five. We simply had no time for a prodigy. Breakfast, lunch and dinner consumed all of our energy for years. Now it’s up to you to shine. If you are going to be stellar at something, it’s going to have to start now, when you can drive yourself there. Yes, you heard me. Now that you have a driver’s license, feel free to Go for the Gold. Just consider this. If your Pursuit of Prodigy is going to be expensive, you’d better get a second job. Mom is just trying to keep gas in the tank, you know what I mean?

No time for a prodigy. I’m serious. Both Dave and I decided early on that we were okay with Slightly Above Mediocre for our darlings. We don’t have a smidgen of Stage Mom or Dad in our DNA. Those dedicated parents who get up at 4 am to drive their child to an audition in Manhattan? No, that wouldn’t be us. The ones who sit at the ice rink freezing to death for years on end? Nope, can’t hack it. The parents who consider an outing to be a trip to the library and perhaps a soft-serve cone? Now that’s more like it.

Now that the teens are getting older, however, I’m ready for evidence of excellence. I tried to explain to dear Alex that he can still be a prodigy. He’s in the early chapters of his life story. Be a prodigy all you want! Go ahead and excel at something. And when you succeed, please don’t blame your poor mother who simply did the best she could.

When confronted with this article, Alex said, “Oh Mom, I was only kidding.”

I’d like that in writing, please.