The Limiting Factor

The excitement of the move, the new school for the kids, and our new jobs has settled a bit. I am happy to report that work has been uneventful (and in my line of work, "Boring," is good because if things get too exciting, people are usually flirting with death). The kids have started their Religious Ed classes and tennis clinics, and we have established our daily and weekly routines (oh how I have always hated to do homework!). Our Fall season (my favorite season) has been fun. We went to the local farms to go through the corn maze, sip apple cider, and pick pumpkins. The kids have picked out their Halloween costumes, although Husband and myself are still throwing around ideas. We haven't bought candy yet because -hello- we still have six days left, and that's six days that Husband and I would have to eat the candy.

A few weeks ago, Son excitedly came home from school, waved a flyer around, and asked, "Pleeeeeease can I take violin lessons?" Husband and I looked at each other, told him we'd think about it, and later talked about it. The economy being the way it is, and we, being the not-so-proud-owners of an extra house in the Kansas City area, things are tight financially for us (like everyone else). We would have to pay for the lessons themselves, rent the violin, and likely purchase the lesson books, sheet music, and various accessories. Hmm. It sure adds up.

Then, there is the time it would take to take. Dropping him off, picking him up, not to mention the extra practice time for Son. He would have to schedule some time to practice everyday, taking away time from homework, family time, play time, and rest time. Hmm. It sure adds up.

Thinking about the practice time brought back memories for me. I remember first learning how to play tennis- it was fun, and I was excited to play. Then I got older, and I remember my dad waking me up early on weekend mornings, or he would be waiting for me after a long school day, and he would enthusiastically shout, "Let's go play tennis!" as I groaned and pulled the covers over my head, or felt the weight of my backpack slump my shoulders (even with the shoulder pads) even more. Putting the time in to practice was a burden. My father would go on and on about how do I expect to get any better if I don't practice? Ugh. He was right, so I practiced. But what a struggle. I often resented him, and I know he felt it. He still reflects on that time, and now we laugh about it, but I know deep down, I made it difficult for him.

My sister and I had put my mom through this, too. She enrolled my sister and me in piano lesson when we were very young. At first, we were gung ho. Listen -I can play, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!" But the novelty wore off after a few years. We went through the same battles with our mom as we had with our dad, with her telling us to practice, and our not wanting to do so. Finally, the piano teacher, having detected the lack of enthusiasm on our part, fired us. My poor mother. Luckily, my youngest sister was there to pick up the pieces, and continued with a different piano teacher, and can still play the piano somewhat.

It takes three things to dedicate oneself to a hobby/interest: time, money, and energy. As I reflect back on my own interests, the most variable element was the energy. My enthusiasm is what got me started; it keeps me coming back to the tennis and music. My lack thereof is what ended my career in piano. I was fortunate enough to have parents who encouraged my initial interest, and made the other variables of time and money available to me. They continued to encourage me through the periods during which I lacked the interest, but never made it such an obsession that I was turned off completely.

A person's enthusiasm is one of the most valuable assets. Without it, how could we do anything? Some day, my son may not be as interested in the violin as he is right now. But shouldn't we take advantage of this limited resource while we have it? His excitement for a hobby? So we decided to start the violin lessons, which he started this past week. He came home after his first lesson and couldn't wait to show us what he learned. Isn't this what being a parent is about? As I finish up this post, I can hear the screeching -I mean -the practicing in the background, and it is sweet music to my ears.