Am I supposed to push them or not?

When I saw a post about Eileen Gu arguing that maybe we're not pushing our kids enough, I stopped.

It talked about everything she was exposed to growing up. Activities, math camps, training in what felt like every sport ever invented, and it questioned whether all this "let kids be kids" parenting is actually holding them back.

“OMG. I'm messing up their future!”

First thing in my head. Because I'm the mother who doesn't force them through something when they're clearly struggling, who “follows the child” (IYKYK).

Then, 30 seconds later:

“No, I'm not messing anything up. I know what I'm doing… Right? ...Right!”

Which made me think about football last week.

Both my twins started training at the FC Barcelona football school (proud mama moment). First day of training, we arrived late so I rushed them towards their teams.

One was nervous, but went straight to his coach.

The other burst into tears.

"No mamá. I don't want to go. Don't leave me."

So I stayed with him. I didn't take him home, I didn't force him onto the pitch either.

We took our time, I comforted him and little by little, he got closer. Eventually, he joined the team.

Same age. Same parents. Same first day.

They needed completely different things from me.

I think this is what parenting advice accidentally does to women like me.

Push them.
Don't push them.
Let them quit.
Teach them not to give up.

And instead of hearing those as ideas to consider, I immediately start trying to work out which one is right.

Because that's what I know how to do. Give me the standard and I'll learn it, I'll work hard at it, I'll get better.

Except now the standard is how I raise my children.

So every new piece of advice can become another parenting test I'm either passing or failing and once I've decided which answer is right, I stop watching my actual child.

I already have the rule. I just apply it to him.

"Push them" and "don't push them" have the same problem: they tell me what to do.

But neither tells me what's driving me to do it.

I could have taken him home and called it respecting his feelings. Or made him go and called it not letting him quit.

Both could have come from me, not him.

That's what I realized standing beside that football pitch.

Before I decide whether to push, back off, stay or leave, I need to separate two things:

What belongs to my child?

And:

What belongs to me?

His fear, his temperament, how tired he is, whether he actually wants this. What kind of support helps him move through something hard.

Then mine: my relationship with quitting. My fear that I'm not pushing him enough. My idea of wasted potential (I mean, it’s FC Barcelona!). My need to know I'm doing this parenting thing “right”.

My ambition comes with me onto that football pitch. So does my ego… and sometimes my ego can sound a lot like good parenting:

He needs to learn not to quit.
I know he can do this.
I'm only pushing him because I know what he's capable of.

Maybe.

But before I decide that, I need to know whether I'm responding to the child in front of me, or to something this moment is bringing up in me.

Next time your child wants to quit, refuses to go in, or says "I don't want to", give yourself 10 seconds before deciding what happens next.

Ask yourself:
If I wasn't worried about what this says about me, my parenting, or my child's future, what would I notice about what my child needs right now?

You might still push. You might not.

The point is knowing who is making the decision.