How My Son and I Are Growing Up Together This Summer
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photo by author
The first full week of school summer vacation kicked off with all three of my children attending tennis camp for four hours each day. This might not sound like much, but it was monumentally significant for me because it marked the first time in more than nine years of parenting that all my children were away at the same time.
As you might expect, this shift left me a bit adrift, and because this was only a one-week arrangement after which we returned to our previous schedule where some children were coming and some were going, I didn’t get the opportunity to settle into any type of new comfort zone.
This tennis week was significant because it created a clear dividing line between my past parenting experience and my present/future, but it wasn’t the beginning of the seismic upheaval I’ve been feeling lately. As kids get older, they naturally begin to separate and create lives of their own. It can happen little by little, but often it feels like there are large leaps you don’t see coming.
It’s like suddenly someone flips off a light switch and you don’t even realize it until you look up and see you are sitting alone in a dark room.
Instead of being at the center of everything your children do, you’re now on the edges — sitting on a bench under an oak tree watching a tennis lesson, fiddling around on your laptop while the kids play video games in the other room, reading a book on the porch while the children run through a sprinkler, bounce on a trampoline, or sometimes do both at the same time.
Your life begins to become more about logistics, scheduling, and upper-level management and less about hands-on interaction. You become a background actor rather than a co-star.
My oldest child, who is inexplicably nine years old now, had a bit of a rough start at tennis camp. The camp has traditionally been one of his favorite things, but we skipped activities last summer because of COVID, so it kind of felt like we were starting over. What we came back to wasn’t exactly like he remembered from two summers ago. Nothing is, really.
I got the feeling from his mood after the first day that he was disappointed that camp wasn’t as fun as it used to be — partially because of COVID restrictions, but more so because he is nine now instead of seven. He has to play with older kids and some of them are more athletic and more serious about tennis. There are coaches who expect more and are less likely to let the kids play fun games that don’t have much to do with developing forehands, backhands, and serves. There is an expectation of growing up and growing away from the kid he used to be. The one who loved talking the coaches’ ears off about everything but tennis and who looked forward to the non-tennis activities like slip-n-slides and water balloons.
I imagine he feels that someone has switched off a light switch, but he doesn’t understand why. It’s probably much the same feeling as when his younger siblings are running through a sprinkler in the backyard having the time of their lives and he is disappointed because the sprinkler doesn’t bring him as much joy as it used to. He very much wants it to feel the same, but it just doesn’t. It has to be confusing.
In addition to a tennis camp that was two years different than what he remembered, my son had to deal with kids who were older and not necessarily as kind. He felt overwhelmed, and as I watched surreptitiously from behind a small tree, I came very close to intervening. I had almost decided to ask the coach to move him to another group, away from the kids who were making him uncomfortable, but I pulled back. I walked away and went home to spend a few hours kid-free.
When I picked up the kids at the end of the camp day, I was expecting the worst. However, my son seemed fine. He told me one of the kids he had trouble with wasn’t mean all the time. He said they both liked some of the same YouTubers, which is extremely important in nine-year-old world.
I was proud of him for being resilient and forgiving. I still hold grudges against kids who mistreated me in elementary school more than thirty years ago so perhaps he’s just a better person than I am. I was also proud of myself for resisting my urge to helicopter. I accepted my supporting role. I stayed in the background where I belonged. It’s definitely something I need to get more comfortable with because it’s where I’ll be more and more in the coming years.
Kids aren’t the only ones who have to grow up. As parents, we have to shift and adapt every day, but those times when the larger changes arrive can really sneak up on you. But while we’re struggling with our nostalgic and stubborn selves, it’s important to remember that for our children, growing up is really tough, too. It’s so much more difficult than running and skipping carefree through a sprinkler.
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