Achievement and Contentment

A loving mother joined our running group a year ago. Alexa only wants what is best for her children, aged three, five, and seven. “My oldest is brilliant and accomplished,” she began as we headed out into the early morning mist. “He excels at everything.”

The older members of our group nodded in unison like toy bobble heads, remembering years ago when every developmental milestone could be ticked off with grace and assurance. No one had the heart to interrupt Alexa and mention that the road ahead is seldom without bumps or potholes.

“He does well at karate, he does well at baseball, he does well at school, he’s reading above grade level,” Alexa went on.

The rest of the older runners remained silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s just that he never wants to do anything. He does well when he gets to karate or baseball and seems to enjoy school and activities. But it’s becoming a struggle to get him out of the house.”

“Does he have time alone at home just to hang out or play with his brothers?” Elena asked. “When I look back, I sometimes wonder if my kids would have benefitted from a little more unstructured time.”

“We don’t want him to fall behind,” Alexa countered gently. “All the other kids are involved in activities pretty much every day after school–gymnastics, ballet, tutoring. One kid is already playing French horn AND doing archery. We want our son to be exposed to every possibility so that he can shine.”

Most of the other runners in our group are older–late 50s rather than mid-30s–and our kids are grown and gone. I think I speak for many of us when I suggest that our influence on our beloved children was significantly less than we thought. But since I’m supposed to know something about how to bring up healthy kids in a tough culture, I spoke up. I asked Alexa what her long-term goals are for her older son.

She responded instantly. “Obviously, I want him to be happy,” she began. “But most importantly, I want him to make a contribution. I want him to be somebody.”

“Then you may have the order backwards,” I said. “Everybody thinks that achievement leads to contentment. Whereas in my experience, it’s the other way around.”

We stopped running to wait for some early morning cars to pass. Alexa paused then spoke rapidly. “You mean to tell me that a student isn’t happy when she is graduated from medical school? An accomplishment like that means the world to the family and to the graduate.”

“I mean they’re able to climb that pyramid because they’re high functioning. It’s not being graduated that makes them happy.”

“But we don’t want him to fall behind,” Alexa said. “It’s a competitive world out there. And what about the kid down the block who is already on his second year of French horn lessons?”

“I wish him every success,” I said. “But it sounds like your son would rather spend a little more time at home, a little less time being driven to structured activities.”

“He does seem happiest when he’s reading to his two little brothers,” Alexa sighed. “He says he wishes he had more time to draw pictures with them. They make up these incredible, complete worlds with drawings of dinosaurs and they’re always asking me to help them with the big words. They create these entire books. They’re so beautiful. But then we have to get in the car. With three of them, we’re always going somewhere.”

“Then it might be a good time to think about ‘ages and stages’. Or put another way, “present mirth hath present laughter,'” Elena said.

“You mean it’s okay if they just hang out at the house on the weekends?”

“Maybe even preferable,” I said. “After all, your oldest is only seven.

Elena went on. “I don’t remember taking my kids anywhere besides the park near our house. They seemed to find enough to do making up games to play in the woods and they seemed to have turned out okay.”

Our group stopped at the water fountain. Half of us walked through the parking lot at Matheson Hammock to watch the first light come over the Bay. The sun was just coming up over the horizon and we could barely make out the string of islands and the bridges connecting them to the mainland.

I like to think that many of us felt content thinking about the day to come, whether or not there was a French horn waiting for us back at the office. I hope Alexa’s kids–half a century from now when they are my age–will be able to enjoy a misty morning running with a group of friends down to the water fountain and looking out over the Bay.