They Said "Come With Me" — So I Did

"Hey mom, come with me today."

“To watch?”

“No! Come take class with me today! You keep talking about it. We have 20 minutes. Come with me today!”

I had been talking about it. Hypothetically. In an “I’m not sure I really want to do this” sort of way. In an “I’m 40, and the theory of getting in shape and doing something physical is attractive, but the practice of it is NOT” sort of way.

“I don’t have a gi, sorry!”

“No! You can wear mine. I have a clean one. Let’s go!”

And then my 16-year-old grabbed my hand, pulled me into the bedroom, and dressed me like a small child who was pouting about putting on fancy picture clothes. Except it wasn’t church clothes — it was a Jiu-Jitsu gi. And she wasn’t dragging me to a photo shoot. She was dragging me to a gym where I would pay money to have strangers choke me.

Four of my children have been training in competitive Jiu-Jitsu for the past three years, and I’d recently been tossing around the idea of joining them. My oldest two, 16 and 14 years old, had started adult classes, and a new class had just opened with their coach at a time that actually fit into my schedule. I could do it — and for the first time in 16 years of being a mom, I had a little extra spending money, a little extra energy, and a little extra time I could devote to me. 

The idea of trying something new, with people I didn’t know, doing something I knew without a doubt I’d be terrible at, was terrifying. 

Still, I really wanted to say no that first day. The idea of trying something new, with people I didn’t know, doing something I knew without a doubt I’d be terrible at, was terrifying. My daughter gently (not really) reminded me of what I always tell her: “Mom. You can do hard things! Just try it once.”

So I did. I wanted to throw up the whole time. I was sweating and panting five minutes into the warm-ups, while everyone else was doing them easily. I came home with bruises and pain in muscles I didn’t even know I had.

I also came home to daughters full of joy and excitement that I was participating alongside them in something they love. From that class on, we got to switch roles for an hour at a time. My daughters became the experts — the teachers — the ones guiding and correcting me. They love that I’m willing to humble myself and ask them for help and coaching (they also love that they get to beat me over and over again every class). Mostly, they love that they said, “Please do this with us,” and I was brave enough to say, “Yes.”

I’m two months in now, and I’m still always tired. Always bruised. Always sore. Always getting systematically crushed by everyone. But I’m also always excited to go do this with them and share a piece of their world.

At some point, as your students get older, you’ll have your own “Come do this with me” moment. It will be uncomfortable, awkward, and possibly painful. Be brave. Say yes. Embrace the moment when your roles switch, your student becomes your teacher, and you get the chance to enthusiastically learn something new from them.

It’s worth it.