Sally’s a Quitter (and Why I’m Proud)

Sally quit karate this month. That’s just the latest in a long history -- for an 8-year-old -- of quitting:  before that was piano lessons, before that was gymnastics, before that was ballet. 

Every time, she started out enthusiastically. Those first few weeks of ballet, she couldn’t stop grinning and bouncing. But a few months later, Sally would groan when it was time to put on her leotard. “I don’t want to go. I’m too tired. I just want to stay home.”

Same with karate. After watching her older brother for years, she agreed to start lessons. But soon classes became preceded by : “I don’t want to go. I just want to stay home.” I made her stay through our one-year contract but then resigned to Sally never becoming a black belt.

I wondered, what’s my role here? Am I supposed to make her stick it out until she’s proficient to teach her perseverance? That’s what a Tiger Mom would do, but I’m more Tired Mom than Tiger Mom. Is this a sign of my lack of resolve? After all, I’m not-so-secretly relieved that I don’t need to drive to yet another after-school activity.

Worse yet was the question festering in the back of my mind, “Am I raising a quitter?” Quitting sounds like failing – a sign of insufficient effort or willpower or stamina. We all want to raise children who succeed or at least get the A+ for effort. 

I thought about Sally: she doesn’t lack perseverance. When she was 6, she biked 20 miles in a day. She was tired at mile 17 but wouldn’t give up until she had rounded her mileage off to 20. When she was 7, she jogged all the way down to the canal and back, no small feat for a little, bitty body.

I thought about my preconceived notions of parenting. Long before I had kids, I had decided that a well-rounded kid’s extracurricular activities should include at least one sport, one musical instrument, and one social/general club (eg, Cub Scouts). [Oddly enough, I also said I would never have my children in too many activities.] This worked for older brother Huckle, who has insatiable curiosity, drive, and enthusiasm for anything. Although Huckle’s classical guitar, karate, and cub scouts -- on top of homework and practicing -- have become a burden to both of us, I respect Huckle for not wanting to quit anything. But why isn't this plan for well-roundedness working for Sally?

Last weekend, as Sally floated lazily in the bathtub, she pondered a question we had been asking each other as a family. We had just returned from our first “adventure travel” trip to Istanbul and Zurich. To pass the time in the airport, we played “where would you go if you won a trip around the world.” She sat up in the tub and said, “Mom, if I won a trip around the world, I’d give it to someone else. I just like to be home.”

Then it struck me: it’s not that Sally lacks resolve or stamina or perseverance; it’s that she loves to be home. She entertains herself endlessly with our pets and with little dramas played out by stuffed animals. She paints and draws and bakes and builds and, unlike Huckle, is never bored at home. Sally is quiet, with a rich inner world of imagination. She is responsible, keeping an aquarium going since she was 5 years old and caring faithfully for our pet mice.

Maybe someday I’ll go through with my next nefarious plan to bribe Sally into restarting piano lessons by agreeing to Burger King lunch once a week (I'm a slow learner). But for now, I’m proud that my daughter knows what makes her happy. I love her, and I love that she finds contentment in the simple pleasures of being home.