BC (Before Children) I dreamed of all the marvelous things I’d teach my unborn progeny. We’d share happy moments learning ABC’s, counting, skipping stones—all the storybook ideals every future parent has. Then reality hit.
First, the children didn’t choose to learn everything we wanted to teach them. They still don’t, in fact. Second, sometimes they wanted to learn what we couldn’t teach. We brought in guitar teachers and soccer lessons and grandfathers—anyone who claimed expertise on the necessary subject.
Then the kids reached adolescence, the stage where we knew nothing except how to drive them places and hand out money. Soon they didn’t even need our driving skills. Then they didn’t need our money.
Now we don’t teach them anything. Oh sure, we throw out advice, like sprinkles of rain. But the kids aren’t especially interested, so it all falls to the ground. They are quick to hand out advice to us, though. We listen to their pearls of wisdom as often as they listen to ours. It’s a great relationship.
But I do pay attention to some of our conversations. Recently, we visited Nathan and Kat in Abilene, and Cameron and Gracie showed up. The kids played pickleball, and John and I took a lot of interest in the game.
John used to play tennis and loves ping pong. I’ve swung my fair share of racquets (tennis, badminton, ping pong, racquetball). Pickleball is a conglomeration of a lot of games involving a racquet or paddle. It actually looks like fun, and we quizzed the kids during the weekend. They all enjoyed displaying their knowledge, and I took notes.
Kat also mentioned Nathan bought her a treadmill that fits under her desk at work. What? They make such a thing? She sold me on its compact size and versatility. On our return trip I hopped on to Amazon and purchased a walking treadmill and a pickleball set. I’ve managed to assemble the treadmill in the office. When my watch tells me it’s time to stand, I get on the treadmill for ten minutes, about forty minutes total during the day. I’m now a believer in this exercise contraption the size of my raincoat!
As for pickleball, John and I are working on that. Adjusting our lives to squeeze in one more activity is a juggling process. Honestly, the fact I listened to my kids and did what they suggested is a whole new world for me. Who knows? I might go back and follow their other advice—less screen time, eating more vegetables, more water. But pickleball first—let’s not get too crazy.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1989 and resides in Grand Cane, Louisiana. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com