artificial insemination kit for humans
Menu Game On
I Used to Be Extremely Competitive. I Won’t Raise My Daughter That Way.
My usually sweet daughter might have a hidden competitive spirit within her, but I want to guide her on a different path.
by Mia Lin
When my husband and I first started living together, we enjoyed playing Gin Rummy while listening to podcasts after dinner. We were young adults who acted much older. If you’ve played Gin Rummy, you know it’s a relatively low-stakes game; there’s no money or pride on the line—it mainly relies on luck. It was a relaxing way to unwind—until one fateful night when I noticed he had developed a new tactic: laying down his matches all at once, declaring “Rummy!” before I could see how many cards he had left. I firmly believed this wasn’t how Gin Rummy should be played and felt it was deceitful. So, I did what any rational person would do. I dramatically scattered the cards across the table, upset everything, and stormed out to start the car. Where was I going? I had no idea. To a place where card games are played fairly? As I drove off, I yelled, “I’m never playing with you again, you cheater.” Let’s just say I was acting more like a child than an adult. We never played Gin Rummy again. Even now, when we sit down for a board game, he looks at me nervously and says, “We’re not keeping score, right?”
I grew up in a household that not only encouraged competition but required it. Like many immigrants, I was taught that “good enough” wasn’t a thing; it was either “the best” or “everyone else.” I understand the origins of this mindset, of course. The American Dream carries an inherent scarcity mentality: only a select few can succeed. My family was determined that I would be among those few, as it was their way of securing my future.
However, as with many well-meaning lessons, this one has unfortunately shaped my identity in ways I didn’t intend. From an early age, I would compare my grades to others, feeling deflated if anyone scored even slightly higher. (Once, in high school, I snuck into the vice principal’s office to check my classmates’ GPAs so I could secretly brag. Charming, right?) Naturally, no one wanted to play games with me. Although I eventually learned to hide my competitive nature better, it still lurked inside like a bear, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
Then I became a parent. One of my biggest fears was becoming “that mom”—the one who brags about her child’s advanced reading skills, the one whose kids are always perfectly polite and never forget to say thank you. But when I looked at my baby’s face, I realized there was no need to compare her to anyone else. I saw for the first time how unique a person can be and how love can exist in isolation. I didn’t need her—or myself—to be the best. We were already the best for each other.
My sense of relief didn’t last long, as I was surprised to find that my usually sweet daughter also had a fierce competitive streak hidden inside her. It was more pronounced than I expected.
Last month, her school organized a contest where kids had to write down the number of books they read in a week on strips of paper to create a long chain. The child with the longest chain would earn bragging rights and a coveted Happy Meal toy. Knowing that my daughter enjoys reading, I anticipated her excitement. What I didn’t foresee was the predatory glint in her brown eyes.
“I will beat them all,” she declared.
I was taken aback and experienced a wave of déjà vu. “Or we could just have fun and not focus on winning!”
She shook her head, as serious as a boxer entering the ring. “What’s the point if I don’t win?”
I assure you, I did not consciously instill this competitive spirit in her. We engage in cooperative board games, we cheer for each other, and I make a conscious effort to avoid comparisons in her presence. I was also mindful of the disadvantages some kids might face with parents who might not have the time to read aloud or access to books at home. This is a reality for many in life’s competitions, especially the invisible ones where the prize is a promising future. It’s clear that privilege gives some a head start. I didn’t want my daughter to measure her worth—or others’—based on contests that are, at least in part, arbitrary.
For days, I tiptoed around, trying to encourage her to see the reading chain challenge as lighthearted, repeating the age-old mantra, “It’s just for fun!” Each time, she shot me down with a determined furrow of her brows. It was a long week.
Finally, the day of judgment arrived. The chains were displayed on the wall. My daughter didn’t win, although hers was among the longest. Her friend, Leo, took the prize, but I heard they played together just fine afterward. Later, at bedtime, I asked her about the contest and how it felt to participate, carefully avoiding the words “win” and “lose.”
She pondered for a moment. “It’s okay. Leo read so much.”
Suddenly, she was back to her usual self, her fierce intensity gone. I expressed my pride in her efforts, and we settled down with a book, reading just for the joy of it.
There will be many moments of competition in her life, some subtle, others significant. There will be more school contests and sports games, and she’ll likely have to strive for college acceptance or job opportunities. Her natural inclination to give her best is commendable, as long as it doesn’t dictate her self-worth or damage her relationships. The competitiveness I grew up with isn’t inherently bad either; it’s tied to my determination and ambition, as well as the immigrant spirit to thrive in a new environment. The real challenge lies in knowing when to step back from competition and how to gracefully reject comparisons. After all, my daughter is one of a kind. So am I. And so are we all.
For more insights on parenting and family building, check out this informative resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
In this reflection, Mia Lin shares her journey of overcoming an overly competitive nature shaped by her upbringing. After witnessing her daughter’s emerging competitiveness, she grapples with the balance between fostering ambition and ensuring her child understands the value of enjoyment over competition. The story emphasizes the importance of individuality and the challenge of navigating societal pressures.