Bug juice is just juice...like fruit juice or lemonade. That was what we called it in summer camp, I've always assumed it was just a generic name for like Hawaiian Punch or Kool Aid or the aforementioned lemonade.
This was funny and it may be natural to want the best for your children and to want them to be the best. Yet, I think the thing to remember in this particular instance, is that HE IS TWO. He should be taking tennis lessons or golf lessons or SAT prep courses.
This was a great piece, very true and relatable. As a parent of 3 average athletes in a school system of super-athletes, we just leaned into the label with humor and self-deprecation. Your sophomore kid is already committing to UConn for lacrosse 2 years from now? That's amazing! No, they don't offer scholarships in hula-hooping so we're just going the regular route and waiting until he's a senior to apply and see what happens.
Ha!!! What a great description. Hysterical! .... Three of my daughters were athletes: soccer, gymnastics, dance, softball, basketball, etc. During their childhood and teen years, it kept them in great shape and mostly out of trouble. But it caused mom and me to have to drive all over the state and spend thousands of dollars. Now that my daughters are adults, they no longer play any of these sports but they do have lingering injuries like sore backs and knees, etc. One even had to have a relatively extensive surgery on her foot. I guess my summary is: If you're going to have your kid/kids involved in sports, it's better to have just one instead of three. 😀
I'm not a parent at all, so it was interesting reading this. 2 yr olds wearing shin guards? Was that, like, the advanced group or something? I mean, I think they would use those when they were a little bit older. But what do I know? <shrugs>
Also, I think you're missing an opportunity with Jesse's dad to make a good friend to commiserate with. Team up! Maybe dads aren't like that, but I found some of my best mom-friends who continue to be my best friends even after our kids are grown by joining forces with others who felt the same anxieties and fears about parenting with me. We compared honest notes about what our kids were doing and how we were feeling about our choices and their choices. It'll keep you sane and slow down the harmful comparisons you project onto Wilder (notice I didn't say it'll stop it, just slow it down). Jesse's dad is reaching out to you! Become buddies!
I'm super competitive, or at least I am about things I set my mind to. I have seen the obsessive competition mindset harm far more than it has helped, although there's plenty of gold to be extracted amongst the shit.
I think you can ultimately crack the code of extracting the gold moments, and not inadvertently creating a little unbalanced monster, specifically because you're thinking about this right now.
Kids start competitive sports so early these days. It’s hard to fine something for my kids to do that’s just fun and doesn’t take over our lives. Sure, watching them do something they love is great, but I see how much time sports take up for their cousins and I’m just not ready for that as a parent. My oldest is now in high school looking at non-cut sports.
Anyone who is running an organized soccer program for 2-year-olds is seriously milking parents who believe their two year olds are soccer prodigies. You clearly were in good company. Your cohort was so hard core you guys even stuck it out longer than the other parents.
Go Alessi!
(Not as good as Wessi, but clearly you are a 'parent of a toddler' prodigy. That's a hard one to be. So you need a prodigy name too. Well done.
A few minutes before reading this I was looking up info for daycare toddler programs. barf.
One site weirdly used the word “discipline” a lot. Another was like “get them ready for school and systems!” Another has a video that talked about how 85% of your child’s cognitive functions are set by age 3. I was ready to jump out a window.
It was all holding up an interesting mirror.
Evagene will be 2 in February and I just, dagnabbit don’t want her to be “primed” or “organized” or cajoled into a robotic functioning member of whatever society will be around when she’s older. If it were safe I’d want her to have the first five years of her life being with me and her dad and occasionally popping bananas with a big bear in the jungle named Baloo. That’s his name, right? I don’t even know. I just know I like kids dancing with animals in nature because it feels less like pretending.
But I also want her to know how to spell things. So there’s that. I dislike the feeling of institutionalizing my 2 year old. But I also want her to have friends and to learn how to belong and take care of others and herself first and foremost.
I couldn’t help but think that coach cosmo will probably be one of those ordinary moments that our brains are wired to forget and wipe away because they’re ordinary and insignificant. But the jumping up and down and teaching you something and the string of dada dada dada singing in his vocal chords and throat in a moment of joy will get stored in a different part of Wilder’s memories, maybe even the part that counts.
Try to find a Montessori program/preschool that also has an Infant and Toddlers class/program. Even if you have to drive a little bit to take her there, it'll be worth it.
Many, many moons ago, I accidentally stumbled onto Montessori with my oldest, when after completing a successful 3-year old year, he was politely asked to leave 2 months into his 4-year old year. At the time, a huge Eek!!
But, in the end, a blessing in disguise. His sister and younger brother followed him at that Montessori school. Again, it was the best thing I ever did for them because it gave them such a resiliency in their later school years.
In fact, for my daughter (the sister referenced above), she had such fond memories of her Montessori preschool years that she decided to become a Montessori preschool teacher and is currently in her 7th year of teaching.
1. and 2. ah yes, the pull of The Competitive Parent is strong. One day you're missing the AYSO deadline for u6 because who cares and the next you're yelling at your little prodigy to kick his bigger opponent in the knees because surely he's cheating how can he possible be under 6, SOMEONE FORGED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE I'M CALLING THE PRESIDENT. Even the halftime snacks were competitive in our league--must taste good (for the kids) AND be healthy (for the parents) AND the best snack bag ever (for me...up at 11pm the night before asking myself if can I invent organic tangerines that taste like cotton candy before 8am. but at least I wasn't the mom that gave the kids OH SO POPULAR ice cream cookie sandwiches when they were up 6-1 and then they spent the second half with bloated stomachs and lost the game 7-6. Walk of shame, soccer mom.) it's been 17 years and as you can see I still haven't recovered. My humble advice is that--like those ice cream sandwiches--it might feel good now to start the Wessi sports training at age 2, but you'll be nauseous by the time Wilder is in middle school. Resist! (how? shrug. still learning--and failing at--that lesson. My husband and I have now gone from competing for how talented our son is to who has the most unmotivated manchild. it's a race to the bottom and we're in the lead! Hooray, us :-/)
Your "FORGED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE" thought reminded me of a game memory from my youngest son's middle school soccer career.
It was one of those Saturdays when our 3 kids had us going in 3 different directions. So, for this particular game, hub dropped him off at his game and I was the designated pick-up parent.
As I was walking across the fields towards the field where my son would be waiting with his coach, I briefly crossed paths with another parent, angrily yelling, "THERE'S NO WAY THAT TEAM IS 12 YEARS OLD."
Upon reaching my son, I said, "Congrats on winning your game!"
Son: How'd you know we won? You just got here.
Me: You played the team wearing green uniforms, right?
Son (looking at me weirdly): Yeah ... But, how'd you know?
Me: Coming over here I heard a parent with two green uniform guys complaining loudly that y'all weren't 12 years old.
My son, who at 12 years old stood a lanky 5'11" and was a bit of a Speedy Gonzales up and down the soccer field, laughed.
(Hint: In addition, to my son, 2 of his teammates that year also were almost 6 feet at the time, and, like my son, pretty athletic. Add in the remaining team who were all also fairly athletic, and they were daunting to go up against that fall. To this day, we still don't know how that team ended up together; but, for my son, that season was a great way to close out his recreational soccer experience.)
We are humans with human pressures, there is always something. At least that has been my experience raising two boys to adulthood. One kid plays too much, the next not enough. One kid gets a perfect SAT score, the next doesn't and both have pressures.
In the athletic world my sons were top of the small pile in their tiny rural community but this didn't stop my son from putting tremendous pressure on his little self to perform at a crazy level. We would try to talk him down, not up, because he was like you with the SAT score. We tried very hard not to imprint him with the need to perform because he was so over the top about it already but who knows what we did...parenting is so damn hard.
Evan played soccer for about 3 weeks when he was 6? And it was the worst three weeks of my life because he, like me, has no natural athletic ability. He, like me, wanted to be an actor, so all he did was "ACT" like he was playing soccer, just dancing around the field and cheering, fakely, like he was on a stage in a touring company of "Soccer, The Musical" and I was like just RAGING like KICK THE BALL (because while I have no athletic ability I become crazy competitive which is why I don't play any games at all) while Chris turned away with a calm, quiet, dreadful sense of acceptance that we'd wasted a bunch of money.
Wessi is iconic; the helmet ties it together. also what is bug juice?
i need the bug juice mystery unravelled also
Bug juice is just juice...like fruit juice or lemonade. That was what we called it in summer camp, I've always assumed it was just a generic name for like Hawaiian Punch or Kool Aid or the aforementioned lemonade.
This was funny and it may be natural to want the best for your children and to want them to be the best. Yet, I think the thing to remember in this particular instance, is that HE IS TWO. He should be taking tennis lessons or golf lessons or SAT prep courses.
This was a great piece, very true and relatable. As a parent of 3 average athletes in a school system of super-athletes, we just leaned into the label with humor and self-deprecation. Your sophomore kid is already committing to UConn for lacrosse 2 years from now? That's amazing! No, they don't offer scholarships in hula-hooping so we're just going the regular route and waiting until he's a senior to apply and see what happens.
Ha!!! What a great description. Hysterical! .... Three of my daughters were athletes: soccer, gymnastics, dance, softball, basketball, etc. During their childhood and teen years, it kept them in great shape and mostly out of trouble. But it caused mom and me to have to drive all over the state and spend thousands of dollars. Now that my daughters are adults, they no longer play any of these sports but they do have lingering injuries like sore backs and knees, etc. One even had to have a relatively extensive surgery on her foot. I guess my summary is: If you're going to have your kid/kids involved in sports, it's better to have just one instead of three. 😀
I'm not a parent at all, so it was interesting reading this. 2 yr olds wearing shin guards? Was that, like, the advanced group or something? I mean, I think they would use those when they were a little bit older. But what do I know? <shrugs>
Personally, I'm training my daughters to become bankers. Prodigious bankers, ideally...
Also, I think you're missing an opportunity with Jesse's dad to make a good friend to commiserate with. Team up! Maybe dads aren't like that, but I found some of my best mom-friends who continue to be my best friends even after our kids are grown by joining forces with others who felt the same anxieties and fears about parenting with me. We compared honest notes about what our kids were doing and how we were feeling about our choices and their choices. It'll keep you sane and slow down the harmful comparisons you project onto Wilder (notice I didn't say it'll stop it, just slow it down). Jesse's dad is reaching out to you! Become buddies!
I see this through the lens of a lifetime coach.
I'm super competitive, or at least I am about things I set my mind to. I have seen the obsessive competition mindset harm far more than it has helped, although there's plenty of gold to be extracted amongst the shit.
I think you can ultimately crack the code of extracting the gold moments, and not inadvertently creating a little unbalanced monster, specifically because you're thinking about this right now.
Kids start competitive sports so early these days. It’s hard to fine something for my kids to do that’s just fun and doesn’t take over our lives. Sure, watching them do something they love is great, but I see how much time sports take up for their cousins and I’m just not ready for that as a parent. My oldest is now in high school looking at non-cut sports.
As a dad of two daughters who I drag to basketball every weekend, only for them to cry in terror and cling to my legs the whole time, thanks for this
Anyone who is running an organized soccer program for 2-year-olds is seriously milking parents who believe their two year olds are soccer prodigies. You clearly were in good company. Your cohort was so hard core you guys even stuck it out longer than the other parents.
Go Alessi!
(Not as good as Wessi, but clearly you are a 'parent of a toddler' prodigy. That's a hard one to be. So you need a prodigy name too. Well done.
A few minutes before reading this I was looking up info for daycare toddler programs. barf.
One site weirdly used the word “discipline” a lot. Another was like “get them ready for school and systems!” Another has a video that talked about how 85% of your child’s cognitive functions are set by age 3. I was ready to jump out a window.
It was all holding up an interesting mirror.
Evagene will be 2 in February and I just, dagnabbit don’t want her to be “primed” or “organized” or cajoled into a robotic functioning member of whatever society will be around when she’s older. If it were safe I’d want her to have the first five years of her life being with me and her dad and occasionally popping bananas with a big bear in the jungle named Baloo. That’s his name, right? I don’t even know. I just know I like kids dancing with animals in nature because it feels less like pretending.
But I also want her to know how to spell things. So there’s that. I dislike the feeling of institutionalizing my 2 year old. But I also want her to have friends and to learn how to belong and take care of others and herself first and foremost.
I couldn’t help but think that coach cosmo will probably be one of those ordinary moments that our brains are wired to forget and wipe away because they’re ordinary and insignificant. But the jumping up and down and teaching you something and the string of dada dada dada singing in his vocal chords and throat in a moment of joy will get stored in a different part of Wilder’s memories, maybe even the part that counts.
Hi Amanda!
Try to find a Montessori program/preschool that also has an Infant and Toddlers class/program. Even if you have to drive a little bit to take her there, it'll be worth it.
Many, many moons ago, I accidentally stumbled onto Montessori with my oldest, when after completing a successful 3-year old year, he was politely asked to leave 2 months into his 4-year old year. At the time, a huge Eek!!
But, in the end, a blessing in disguise. His sister and younger brother followed him at that Montessori school. Again, it was the best thing I ever did for them because it gave them such a resiliency in their later school years.
In fact, for my daughter (the sister referenced above), she had such fond memories of her Montessori preschool years that she decided to become a Montessori preschool teacher and is currently in her 7th year of teaching.
The Beach Boys even wrote a song about your boy! "Let him run, Wilder, he don't care! Let him run!"
1. and 2. ah yes, the pull of The Competitive Parent is strong. One day you're missing the AYSO deadline for u6 because who cares and the next you're yelling at your little prodigy to kick his bigger opponent in the knees because surely he's cheating how can he possible be under 6, SOMEONE FORGED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE I'M CALLING THE PRESIDENT. Even the halftime snacks were competitive in our league--must taste good (for the kids) AND be healthy (for the parents) AND the best snack bag ever (for me...up at 11pm the night before asking myself if can I invent organic tangerines that taste like cotton candy before 8am. but at least I wasn't the mom that gave the kids OH SO POPULAR ice cream cookie sandwiches when they were up 6-1 and then they spent the second half with bloated stomachs and lost the game 7-6. Walk of shame, soccer mom.) it's been 17 years and as you can see I still haven't recovered. My humble advice is that--like those ice cream sandwiches--it might feel good now to start the Wessi sports training at age 2, but you'll be nauseous by the time Wilder is in middle school. Resist! (how? shrug. still learning--and failing at--that lesson. My husband and I have now gone from competing for how talented our son is to who has the most unmotivated manchild. it's a race to the bottom and we're in the lead! Hooray, us :-/)
Your "FORGED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE" thought reminded me of a game memory from my youngest son's middle school soccer career.
It was one of those Saturdays when our 3 kids had us going in 3 different directions. So, for this particular game, hub dropped him off at his game and I was the designated pick-up parent.
As I was walking across the fields towards the field where my son would be waiting with his coach, I briefly crossed paths with another parent, angrily yelling, "THERE'S NO WAY THAT TEAM IS 12 YEARS OLD."
Upon reaching my son, I said, "Congrats on winning your game!"
Son: How'd you know we won? You just got here.
Me: You played the team wearing green uniforms, right?
Son (looking at me weirdly): Yeah ... But, how'd you know?
Me: Coming over here I heard a parent with two green uniform guys complaining loudly that y'all weren't 12 years old.
My son, who at 12 years old stood a lanky 5'11" and was a bit of a Speedy Gonzales up and down the soccer field, laughed.
(Hint: In addition, to my son, 2 of his teammates that year also were almost 6 feet at the time, and, like my son, pretty athletic. Add in the remaining team who were all also fairly athletic, and they were daunting to go up against that fall. To this day, we still don't know how that team ended up together; but, for my son, that season was a great way to close out his recreational soccer experience.)
We are humans with human pressures, there is always something. At least that has been my experience raising two boys to adulthood. One kid plays too much, the next not enough. One kid gets a perfect SAT score, the next doesn't and both have pressures.
In the athletic world my sons were top of the small pile in their tiny rural community but this didn't stop my son from putting tremendous pressure on his little self to perform at a crazy level. We would try to talk him down, not up, because he was like you with the SAT score. We tried very hard not to imprint him with the need to perform because he was so over the top about it already but who knows what we did...parenting is so damn hard.
Evan played soccer for about 3 weeks when he was 6? And it was the worst three weeks of my life because he, like me, has no natural athletic ability. He, like me, wanted to be an actor, so all he did was "ACT" like he was playing soccer, just dancing around the field and cheering, fakely, like he was on a stage in a touring company of "Soccer, The Musical" and I was like just RAGING like KICK THE BALL (because while I have no athletic ability I become crazy competitive which is why I don't play any games at all) while Chris turned away with a calm, quiet, dreadful sense of acceptance that we'd wasted a bunch of money.
I think Owen just wandered off into the woods to catch snakes or climb a tree or both. What a family.