Focusing on the now instead of the "what ifs"

Let's do away with false certainty and urgency in parenting

I received consent from my daughter Violet to share this story. Check out this article I wrote for CNN to learn how to talk with kids about consent—French fry analogies FTW.

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One thing about modern parenting that exhausts me is false certainty and urgency.

As in, my kid must do X because otherwise Y will happen. 

Yes, sometimes events end up following a prediction, but there is so much out of one’s sphere of control and in 19 years of parenting, I have been reminded countless times that a kids’ development and sharpening of their sense of self is about the process not the product. Exploration, creativity, trial and error, pressing against the edges of one’s comfort level in order to stretch and grow, discovery, getting to the other side of frustration—these are the things that matter most and lead to resilient, dynamic human development.

The past couple of weekends offered a beautiful reminder of this reality, and of how important it is to focus on the now instead of the “what ifs” and a future in which so much could—and should, as kids explore their options and interests—change.

This past fall Violet decided to step off the soccer path, an activity she started at age 4. It was not a decision she made lightly given the friendships made (her team included a supportive, lovely group of kids), time invested (OMG so many hours), and successes enjoyed (her team went to the state championship, a first for the city). I did my best to stay out of the way and be supportive, though I did find myself slipping into the false certainty/urgency trap of, “Oh no…if she steps off the train now, she is done.”

After a beat, I thought to myself, “And so what?” It’s normal and good for kids to explore different things—new experiences can help you find a passion or realize that you want to return to a former activity. I also reminded myself that I have seen Laurel and so many of her peers be fully immersed in activities in high school, then move on to different pursuits in college, vocational, or work settings.

Which is, of course, 100% normal.

I also reframed the feelings of potential loss: Friendships can persist beyond shared activities, letting go of this time commitment meant creating space for something new, and successes can come in different forms.

After throwing different activity ideas against the wall following our withdrawal from the soccer season, Violet decided to focus her efforts on theater, something she dipped a tentative toe into last spring, with an intentional decision to not audition so she could figure out whether she enjoyed it from an ensemble perspective.

For the fall/winter season, I was surprised to hear that Violet was thinking of auditioning. Since toddlerhood she has had shockingly good vocal pitch, but she hasn’t been a “step into the spotlight” kind of kid. She’s never been keen on the idea of joining a choral group or taking lessons.

She auditioned and earned a role in the fall/winter season production. (It’s worth noting that by false certainty/urgency standards, she was “late” to this party as a 7th grader since many of her peers started early on in elementary school.) Over the last few months, she didn’t tell us much about the specifics, though over time choreography practiced behind closed doors slowly evolved to letting us see a sequence or two, to full numbers practiced in full, exuberant view. 

And then it was showtime. As I said, we didn’t have much intel other than Violet suggesting we sit more towards the middle vs. the wings since she was “kind of all over the stage.” 

The lights went down.

I spent the next 2.5 hours in a state of shock.

Violet looked so comfortable and happy on stage, dancing with impressive coordination and rhythm and delivering her lines with confidence and comic timing. I was so happy to have a second opportunity to see the show knowing what to expect—not feeling shocked the entire time—so I could soak in the full production.

And do you know what? Some of her friends from her former soccer team came to the show. Indeed, friendships can persist beyond shared activities.

Despite how wonderful this experience was, when spring theater signups rolled around, I asked Violet whether she wanted to sign up. I was happy she said yes because she found joy in the experience, and I would have been fine if she said no, knowing that this phase of life is about exploration; that a season is, well, a season—ripe with possibility and potential for change.

There is beauty and necessity in pausing to evaluate; in giving kids space to find what lights them up, which sometimes means letting go.

I am here for the process.