unpeeling my onion

Today I learned a lot about myself. I started Davis and Eliza in a recreational gymnastics class the fall after they turned 3. I chose gymnastics because I could put them both in the class (I know, I know, I COULD have put both of them in dance, but this is a topic for another post--a possibly offensive post to male dancers (sorry guys, I still love you, though)). Anyway, the twins LOVED IT!! What is not to like? They get to run around a room with a springy floor, jump on the tramp, learn tricks, balance on a beam, swing on the bar and rings, and jump into a giant pit full of sponges.

After the first couple of sessions of gymnastics, Eliza’s coach asked her if she wanted to be a part of her TOPs class. For those of you that aren’t familiar with gymnastics, as I am not-- though learning more-- the TOPs program is more structured classes that focus on teaching technique and strength—more goal-oriented than a recreational gymnastics class. This program is meant to get the girls ready for competition. At the time, I really had no idea what I was getting into, so I agreed. The hardest part of this decision was splitting up the twins since I initially chose gymnastics so they could do it together. I realized that sooner or later their interests and talents would diverge so I might as well face the music and realize I had two different children on my hands (plus the gym down the street from our house doesn’t have a TOPs/competitive program for boys—Davis elected to take golf lessons from his 18-year-old cousin, Couper. Davis is also still taking a gymnastics rec class as well).

Eliza has now been in this TOPs program for about 1 year, and I have had so much fun watching her progress—and quickly!! She has learned to do front flips on the tramp, climb the gigantic rope to the ceiling, beautiful cartweels with pointed toes, and chin-up pullovers. I also figure that she is so small that gymnastics might just be a good sport for her. By the way, she also LOVES it!

Eliza has only had one other girl in her class, Briana, for almost the entire last year. A few weeks ago, Eliza’s coach realized she and Briana will turn 5 soon and should be moved up to the next class (this is not the first, or probably the last time, that Eliza is thought to be much younger than her actual age due to her small stature) . Today was the first day of her new class. Eliza has been so excited to meet new girls in this new class.

So, I drop Eliza and Briana off today. Though I had planned to run home and put Roger down for a nap, I couldn’t resist watching the girls for a little while in their new class. I introduce myself to the other girls mom’s and subtly direct the conversation to their daughter's stats (how old are they?, what grade in school?). I learn the girls in this next class “up” are just a few months older than Eliza (granted, they are a whole head taller!). They will be starting Kindergarten next year as well—that makes them essentially the SAME age.

After I process this juicy bit of information, I realize I am sizing up the “competition”-- aka the other girls in the class (you know, Eliza's TEAMMATES). I feel a bit gypped because I calculate they have had at least 50% longer time ‘in training’ than Eliza has (this new class meets 1.5 hours, twice a week, as opposed to her 1 hr, twice a week). I am watching the girls to see if I can ascertain their potential—how well do they point their toes? Do they self-correct themselves when their coach gives them a suggestion? . . . . . .and then, suddenly, I realize—they are 5 YEARS OLD!!! They just want to have fun and learn some new tricks in gym class.

AM I DESTINED TO BE A STAGE MOM? I had no idea this competitive gene was lurking inside of me—well, I knew it was there, but never knew it would express itself in relation to my child!! HELP!! What have I become? What will I become? Am I going to push my child to the breaking point or plant little suggestive thoughts into my children’s head that “they should be better?” Are my children destined to discuss my pushing and prodding and too-high expectations in their adult therapy sessions? Will I mess them up forever?

I have been lurking around the house for the past hour mulling over this new discovery of myself. It is a good thing I am realizing this now, I guess. I am definitely going to have to tame my primal and competitive urges, don’t you think?