My child plays no sports.

band geek FTW!!

I am definitely not a sportswoman.

I was born before the push for girls in sports.

I claim (I think I read it somewhere?) it’s all because when there’s dyslexia in a family the non-dyslexic sibling will have poor athletic prowess.

The bottom line is I’m not  traditionally athletic.

I’ve discovered through trial & error, however, I enjoy moving my body and lifting heavy things/setting em back down.

Most days the “heavy thing” I end up lifting is my body and I’m more than content with this fact.

I think that was the reason I never thought much about the Child and sports when she was little.

I encouraged her to play.

I provided her opportunities to experience different ways to move her body and discover what she enjoyed and what she didn’t.

Not only did I possess no preconceived notion of where her skills SHOULD be, I was neither trying to live through her nor attempting to steer her in a certain direction so she could have the sporty-experiences I did.

We just hopped.

And jumped.

And hooped.

And balanced (note the TINY Doodle in background):

And it was fine.

As she grew older I encouraged her to try organized sports in the same manner I encouraged her to try dance and drawing.

All I wanted to do was help her discover her passion.

She tried soccer for a while.  She played softball for a bit.  She liked both “just fine,” but neither seemed her soul-mate exercise (to borrow a term from fitness).

And so we played.

And so she played.

With friends at the park, on our trampoline, in neighbors’ swimming pools—everywhere.

Not organized. No practices. No weekends filled with competitions.

For the most part just play with some gymnastics thrown in sporadically.

I’d not thought about it much until recently.

I noticed, post-move, the first question people–big and little–ask upon meeting is:

What sports do you do?

Interestingly, the Child never seems flustered by this query. She responds with whatever is in/on her mind.

I like to do _______.

Right now I ______.

I often eavesdrop out of curiosity (will she say I wish I did _____?? Is she interested in something I’m not aware of?), but her answer doesn’t vary and she seems entirely happy with how shes moving her body right now.

These thoughts languished in the back of my mind and until a few weekends ago.

We’d had a busy day.

Walking, swimming, playing basketball, monkey bar’ing, indoor soccer’ing and she turned to me and said:

We’re an active family.

 she’s always viewed us that way.

Her remark made me smile.

(Connection)

To me *active* is a gift I can give her which is bigger than playing a specific sport.

To my misfit eyes I’m aiding her in creating a self-definition which will serve her life-long.

She can continue this routine without the struggle I’ve seen of:

I no longer play college ____ or team ____ I may as well sit on the couch.  I have no reason to move my body.

To my eyes there’s a gift and value in that.

We’re an active family.  My child plays no sports.

And yet, when I’m entirely honest, there’s still a small part of me which winces each time she’s asked what sport she plays.

There’s a tiny piece of me which wonders:

Is it enough we’re an active family and my child plays no sports?

The post My child plays no sports. appeared first on Carla Birnberg.

SOURCE: Carla Birnberg – Read entire story here.