Some kids excel at soccer. Some are gifted gymnasts. Some are academically driven. Our 11-year-old twins? They love to perform.
As any parents whose children demonstrate pronounced interest (dare I say, talent?) would, we heartily encourage them. Sleuthing out appropriate audition opportunities. Registering for related summer camps. Toting them to and from rehearsals. Looking—and paying—for lessons.
Yet when does maternal support of their limelight leanings segue into gross overindulgence? Specters of Teri (Brooke’s mama) Shields, Joe (Michael and the 5’s dad) Jackson, June BooBoo Child (that is her last name, isn’t it) and ALL the Dance Moms haunt my every endeavor on our twins’ artistic behalf.
However, hand-in-hand with offering up any performance for public consumption comes the sad possibility of childhood rejection, criticism (both warranted and un-), even failure—-times in which a mother’s loving reassurance is imperative. Of course genuine honesty from mother is mandated as well; think of all the American Idol contestants whose well-intentioned but misguided parents fostered unattainable dreams that would have been more kindly redirected in their fledgling stages.
In this, the age of reality TV, YouTube channels, and viral videos, the prospect of public adulation has seemingly irresistible allure. Go ahead. Ask any tween you know what they want to be when they grow up. In earlier eras, you’d likely hear a career choice… a doctor, an astronaut, a teacher. In the 21st century, you’ll likely get a one-word adjectival response, “famous.“ How do kids feel it’s easiest to achieve that tantalizing brass ring? Excel in sport or stage. Kids aren’t the only ones who feel that way. All-too-often the parents of children who become “famous” subsequently become infamous for believing the very same. Earl (Tiger’s dad) Woods, Dina (Lindsay’s mom) Lohan and both parents of the Culkin clan come to mind.
Employing the not-as-strained-as-you-might-think connection to parents with offspring in competitive sports, we know we don’t want to be the adults publicly humiliating the referee for a parentally perceived bad call. Similarly, we don’t want to condemn the casting agents who cast our two aside for other shining stars. Much like our sporting parent counterparts, we do want to document with photographs and video each moment and watch over and over. We do want to lean in with suspense, then leap from our seats to cheer. We do want to weep tears of pride for an effort extraordinaire. We do want to clap so vigorously our rings bruise our palms.
What sports backers have that parents of performers don’t is the enviable column of wins and losses. Statistics. Measurable means to assess athletic success (sportsmanship is something altogether different). Singers, dancers, actors? Their “skill” is more subjectively judged—less-quantifiable. More challenging still, as parents, we never want to focus on the superficial, but our two scene seekers (and others of their ilk) actually need headshots highlighting their physical blessings.
So where is the line? When is parental participation too much—in sports or in performance? When is it a disservice to not do more?
[Please, let’s all be kind in our comments…listen to and learn from one another.]
