Extracurriculars: How Young is Too Young?

"Mommy, will I ever get to do anything?"

It seems like an innocent question from my five-year-old, but the tone used and the exact words cut through me.

You see, I have two girls, ages nine and five. The older one got the benefit of all things that go along with being the first child: constant monitoring, doting and attention. And, like most parents with the first child, I jumped through hoops to make sure that everything was done for her—sometimes too much. Feeling pressure (mostly from other parents), she was enrolled in ballet at three years of age. Then came gymnastics, softball, library groups, playgroups of every shape and size. All of which, in hindsight, was too much, too soon. 

None of these activities really spoke to her. She wanted nothing to do with a tutu, a leotard or a baseball uniform—all she wanted to do was play with her toys. Lots of time, money and effort wasted, as I later realized.

At the age of six, we tried horseback riding. This, it turns out, was her true calling. Three years into it, she's an accomplished rider; she's won countless ribbons in horse shows; she will muck out a stall with the best of them. (But, of course, still won't pick her socks up off the floor.)

Fast-forward to my second child. With lessons learned, and now a "seasoned" parent, I decided that I would not "waste" the time , money and effort doing things too early with her. When the time was right, I would know it—I would introduce her to things that were age appropriate and only at a time when she could truly appreciate them. She was quite content playing, singing and dancing—all in the comforts of our own home. Mind you, she was still given opportunities: great at three and four, swimming lessons (which I think are a necessary life skill, not a frivolous activity), and daily adventures with me as a stay-at-home-mom.

Bottom line, she was happy, healthy and thriving in her own right, despite that lack of an overwhelming schedule.  Everything seemed to be going according to plan.

But last week, when she turned to me and posed that question. And I thought: did I make a mistake? Should I have signed her up for ballet at two-and-a-half? Am I giving too much to her older sister, and depriving her? Will she ever get into college? How will she pay for all the therapy that she will obviously need?

I felt like my core had been shaken and in those few seconds, I questioned every decision I ever made throughout her five years of life. You see, I am a worrier. I'm good at it. Always have been, probably always will be. 

I over think every choice, I lay awake at night contemplating every move I made during the day. Second-guessing is second nature to me.  I will admit that I still ask and value my friends' opinions and advice. ("Do you think I should take her to the doctor now, or wait until tomorrow," or  "do you think she needs a tutor for math since she hasn’t mastered her multiplication tables yet?") However, over the years, I have learned to ultimately trust my own maternal instincts.

After my brief panic-stricken moment, I replied: "Yes, honey, you will get to do something—really great, I promise! I'm signing you up for gymnastics and you're going to love it!"

With that, she said, "Cool. Thank you, Mommy!" 

Crisis averted, no damage detected. She skipped happily away, singing her favorite made up song.

So now, the time is right, and I know it.

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