Crouching Mother Hidden Tiger

While this "Tiger Mom" controversy has been in the back of my mind for months- it wasn't until I stole a few minutes away on the elliptical with an old Time magazine that my mind fully wrapped itself around this hotbed of playground debate.  Lila is still small, so while I may joke about big plans of summer dual- immersion programs of Mandarin and swimming, I secretly covet lazy days of summer, more reminiscent of Country Time lemonade commercials and Huck Finn then any kind of formal structure.  The New York Times recently published an article about the vanishing of good old fashioned play- the kind of play where tidy linen closets are forsaken for elaborate forts of billowing cotton. Every morning I bring Lila into bed where we seek refuge under our coverlet of escape before mommy jumps in the shower and the day begins. 

Growing up in middle America we played with abandon and little more than our imaginations.  I remember rushing through dinner to be released for just a little more time outside.  Time to roam the little patch of woods behind our house or ride our bikes on the "dirt trails" which were nothing more than the part of our neighborhood that was not yet developed, but my the secrets these childhood fortresses held. These trails and little woods provided the backdrop for endless pretend, inspiration and awareness of a bigger world and the roads that awaited my discovery.

There is a balance to be achieved in encouraging and challenging our children to be the best they can be, while letting them find their own yellow brick road.  As Lila enters her first spring, I can't help but think of all I wish for our blooming baby- lessons and practice will certainly be on the agenda but they will be balanced by play and time scheduled for absolutely nothing but make-believe and daydreams.

I took a walk across our courtyard today and had to hold back the urge to literally skip through the tulips whose green tips are bursting through the mulch.  After one of the worst winters in memory, spring seems to be asserting itself with a fierce aggression. Hope springs eternal and anything that blooms year after year from a little bulb is certainly determined and passionate.  So it may be that Lila is being raised by the daughter of a flower child who draws more inspiration from persistent blooms than tiger roars.  Times have certainly changed since I roamed freely and didn't come home until dark, but Lila will still roam freely- her mother will just be crouching behind the trees watching her lay the bricks to her own path, and either real or imaginary that path will be well-played.




"Work/Play Balance"



Lila's party