You are not your child's activities, so don't take it hard if they quit

From Saturday's Briefing:

I've stored up an extensive supply of mom identities.

I've been a soccer mom, gymnastics mom and dance mom. Girl Scout mom, violin mom and Destination Imagination mom. My current status includes church choir mom, Boy Scout mom and track mom.

And marching band mom.

That's a heavy burden, as any marching band family will tell you. All-day drills in the height of August heat, early morning practices as long as the football season lasts, Friday night lights, daylong competitions on Saturdays.

Of course, I'm not the one doing the strenuous work. That's up to the kids, who learn a particular method of marching, play an instrument, manage props, adjust constantly based on feedback, all while meeting expectations of directors and drum majors and section leaders. We parents have a lighter burden, often related to logistics and morale, but we take the work seriously.

Cooper, who is finishing 11th grade, has recently decided that he won't return to marching band for senior year. He's putting away his shako and plume, and I'm hanging up my marching band volunteer parent shirt.

I didn't take the news gracefully at first. When he told me that he was thinking about leaving, I said no, absolutely not, we won't even discuss it.

And then I realized how foolish I sounded, stopped talking and listened.

His academic schedule remains ambitious, with a healthy dose of AP courses and two hands-on engineering classes. He wants to continue running with the cross country team, whose season is concurrent with marching band. He's been accepted in a mentorship program that requires extensive extracurricular work.

He wants to attend football games as a regular student for just one year.

Most importantly, he's considered what makes him happy and what he wants for his future.

Who am I to say no to that?

So much of our community revolves around children -- most every imaginable sports league, tutoring and accelerated learning centers, gyms for competitive cheer and tumbling, music and dance studios, plus access to private lessons to keep up with every other child taking private lessons.

We have strong schools with highly engaged parents who support PTA and booster clubs. Drive through our neighborhoods, and you'll find yard signs proclaiming membership on the swim team, the drill team, the baseball team. You'll spy back windows of SUVs and minivans with stickers supporting orchestra, cheerleading, volleyball.

We have wrapped ourselves in our children's passions. Or perhaps, in some cases, our children have been enveloped by our passions.

We schedule vacations and celebrations around tournaments. We shuffle family budgets to accommodate extraordinary expenses. We ask our neighbors and colleagues to buy cookie dough to fund trips and uniforms.

Are all of these sacrifices justified? That's up to each family to decide. More importantly: Are families comfortable even asking the question?

Cooper's decision forced me to think about how I define myself. Is my identity dependent on what my children choose to do? Are my children's actions or inactions a reflection of me?

Cooper, at an October 2017 game

Without question, my love for Cooper and Katie is constant, not contingent on membership in any club or placement on any team. They can own their own passions, with or without me. They don't need my approval as much as they need my love.

And they don't call me "Band Momma" or "Tennis Momma."

They simply call me "Momma." No extra adjectives required.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.