Mommybrain

Most nights this is how Thor decompresses when we first get home from work. He sits down at the piano and starts belting out some Elvis Costello, Elton John, Beatles. Quinn usually joins him on one of the many supporting instruments — the strum stick (as seen above and which Quinn refers to as the “ti-tar”, aka guitar), the electronic drum pads, the mini-accordian, the harmonica, the triangle, the bongos, his own pint-sized baby grand piano… Sometimes I join in by dancing around the room. We’re not quite the von Trapp Family, but we have fun. And I know I should be grateful that Quinn is getting so much daily exposure to music. And I am. Why then, do I have a cloud of guilt hanging over me because I don’t yet have him in piano lessons?

It’s the same guilt that grips my stomach when I remember that he hasn’t had swimming lessons yet. Or Mandarin lessons. Or that he isn’t yet speaking Spanish fluently. Or that I want to enroll him in a tumbling or dance class. Or Acrosports. Or Karate. When I hear parents of younger children discussing the various classes they’ve already experienced with their kids or speaking fluently in a second language with their kids I’m overcome with panic. I tell myself: My child will never learn math because he can’t play Bach on the piano yet. Or my child might drown in my watering can because he hasn’t had swimming lessons yet. Or my child won’t be viable in the job market come 2022 because he won’t be able to speak Mandarin. Or my child might be the next Baryshnikov if not for the fact that his mom is a slacker.

Now, in my more rational moments I know these things to not be true. (Well, except maybe for the swimming lessons. I really need to get on that.) But in these other moments, these moments where I am so hard on myself, I am stunned at my inability to provide every opportunity for my child. Or at least one.

Where is this harsh judgement coming from? Some deep, personal regret of mine because I stopped dance classes after 4th grade only to pick them up again in college but with such a lack of confidence that I took beginner classes over and over, wishing, but never believing that I could be good enough to join the college modern dance troupe? Or is it some outside societal force that dictates to us in this age of opportunity what we should be doing to give our kids a competitive edge? That same force that makes the new parent believe that they must own the entire Baby Einstein DVD collection, or they must purchase every award-winning educational toy for each stage of development or they must make all their own babyfood from scratch and only using organic produce (I’m guilty of that one).

I’m sure it’s coming from all those places and probably even more. The question is, is there really a right or wrong way? In theory, I don’t believe there is — as long as your child is loved and nurtured they’ll turn out just fine. Right? Or is that just naive?