Celebrating the Ordinary

As I skied behind my seven-year old and nine-year old, having taken the chair lift up with them at the end of a very cold afternoon, I started to cry. They held their own on the mountain! After many falls over several years, hours in ski schools, and feelings of failure expressed as recently as during lunch that day, they both, in their own time (coincidentally, together), found their way down the mountain. My son overcame his negative self-talk; my daughter faced her fear of the chair lift. With both of my children overcoming one anxiety or another to be able to ski down the mountain with me, I cried happy tears of pure joy, something I have not felt for a while now.

In our hyper-successful, results-driven, uber-competitive, privileged world, it’s easy to overlook these small wins for accomplishments that are grander, flashier and more prestigious. Will my children be Olympic skiers? No. Will they be on a ski team? Probably not. Does any of that really matter or did any of that matter that afternoon? No. And that’s my point.

There is so much pressure on our children to perform, fueled by social media, parental fear and changing economic landscapes. I’ve written about this before about the crippling pressures placed on our youngest citizens. Truth be told, I’m guilty of this as much as the next parent but what I felt that afternoon was a reminder that everything we do need not be a résumé builder.

Everything we do need NOT be a résumé builder.

That afternoon I rejoiced in celebrating something that, however simple, was joyous and fun. It was OK to take delight in things that were seemingly trivial, mundane or ordinary. Enjoying what was, having fun in the process, was beautiful in and of itself. As we reached the end of the mountain, I squealed with delight, literally jumping up and down on my skis, so excited for my children and for all that they had overcome to be on that mountain with me. And seeing my children’s smiles of pride was the greatest reward of all.