Fledge or FLUDGE?
I'll have a little of each, please.
Every morning my husband and I wake up around 5:30am. We come downstairs for a cup of coffee and sit in our two favorite chairs — he reads the New York Times, I meditate and vision about my day. What is it I want to bring into the world today? How do I want this to go? If this were the most perfect day I’ve ever had, what would that even look like?
Sometimes I get exactly what I asked for. A lot of times there’s a huge variation on it. That’s just how it goes.
After that, I check on my birds. For those of you who have been reading along for a while you’ve read about my fascination with these magical creatures— the two bald eagles up in Big Bear. I am obsessed.
My husband laughs at me every morning as he hears the chirping coming from my side of the room when I pull up the feed to check on Sandy and Luna, the two eaglets who are learning how to “adult”. I just love the metaphor Mother Nature shows us, right there in a nest, streamed live for anyone who wants to watch.
Here’s the thing about eaglets: at some point, they have to jump. Wings out, feet off the branch, into the air over a hundred-foot drop, with no instruction manual and no do-overs. Sometimes it’s glorious. Wings catch the thermal, the whole body lifts, and you watch this creature figure out — mid-air — that it was built for exactly this.
That’s a fledge.
And sometimes it’s not that. Sometimes the eaglet jumps (or gets accidentally pushed as was the case this time) and it’s all elbows and panic as it face-plants into a branch on the way down, or belly-flops onto the nest, or ends up stuck on a lower limb looking genuinely confused about what just happened to its life. The “eagle-cam people” have a name for this.
They call it a fludge.
Half fledge, half fumble. Not quite flying, not quite falling — just... trying, badly, in front of everyone (on the cam, at least). You may wonder what mom and dad, Jackie and Shadow’s reaction to this mishap was. Did they swoop down and rescue? Did they panic and fly immediately to their aid? Nope. They happened to be away from the nest and didn’t come back for a while. When they got back, they called out and casually made their way to check on Sandy. She had to figure out how to get herself back up and out of the potential predators grasp. They support but don’t hover. Nuture but don’t fix. Aka Parenting experts.
I think about this every single weekend on the sidelines.
Because that’s what we’re watching, isn’t it? Our kids stepping up to serve match point. Taking the second free throw. Making the turn on the anchor leg. Some days it’s a fledge — clean, confident, the body just knows. And some days it is an absolute fludge. The double fault. The airball. The face in the dirt at home plate. And we sit there in our folding chairs, coffee gone cold, watching our own kid do the sports equivalent of flopping onto a branch in what feels like to them, a very public failure.
Here’s what nobody tells you when you sign your kid up for travel ball or club soccer or whatever version of this you’re living: you don’t get to pick which one you’re watching on any given day. You don’t get a say. You just get a seat.
I think about this every single weekend on the sidelines. And I thought about it again this week, on a call with one of my clients.
Meet Elle. She’s an amazing 17-year-old soccer player with dreams of playing in college — athletically gifted, the kind of kid who has always risen to the top of the ranks on the pitch. Lately, she’s struggled in the classroom academically. She came to me carrying a story about a tough experience with a coach who she felt bullied by at her high school. She is now feeling insecure about whether she can really play at the next level. We’ve been working together on her stepping into a leadership role on her club team as well as positioning herself this summer for the strongest possible senior year, when she hit a wall none of us saw coming: her high school coach cut her from the first tournament of her senior year. The Hawaii trip.
I got on a call with Elle and her mom, Lisa, and they were both near tears. Lisa talked about how hard this has been for Elle, and honestly, how painful it’s been for her, too — watching your kid go through last years experience with the coach and now with a new coach yet not being able to fix it.
I asked what they’d done so far. Lisa had already reached out to the coach, trying to understand why Elle was cut. The reasons given: unprofessional, didn’t show up for summer practices, not a leader. Elle was confused and hurt. Lisa was truly trying to figure out what to do next.
So together, we built a plan. Elle had a summer camp coming up, so I said: let’s focus on there. I gave her some tools to be as effective as possible, so she could build the muscle of confidence she’d need for her return to the high school program. And with her mom, Lisa, I talked about something harder — letting Elle fall out of the nest. As hard as it is to watch, sometimes we need to let our kids fludge a little on their way to flying.
Here’s what Elle is going to do: she’s going to make the appointment with her coach. Speaking face-to-face with coach — not over text, not on the phone, but in a real sit-down conversation is the best way to show she’s all in.
She’s going to walk into the meeting prepared with facts and ask for feedback. I don’t know yet whether that coach will put her back on the team for that first trip. Nobody does. But I do know what Elle is learning in real time: how to self-advocate, how to lean into conflict instead of away from it, how to show up with facts instead of feelings alone and ask, honestly, “What do I need to learn in this moment?”
That’s what makes a great athlete - someone who’s coachable. It’s also, quite frankly, what makes an amazing human being. My advice to Elle, “Come in looking to make amends, apologize for any errors on your side, ask for feedback.” And finally, since there’s still 6 weeks until Hawaii, how can we move forward?
By the time we got off the call, both Elle and Lisa sounded lighter — they said they needed the perspective, they needed the help. And the truth is, we all need help. That’s why Sandy and Luna have Jackie and Shadow watching over them from a nearby branch, guiding but not taking over, letting them fludge occasionally so that eventually, they can soar.
That’s the job, for all of us on the sidelines — as parents, as coaches, as the adults who love these kids fiercely and want so badly to catch them before they hit the ground. Watch. Guide. Don’t swoop in and fly it for them. Let the fludge happen. It’s not the failure it looks like in the moment. It’s the rehearsal for the fledge that’s coming.
Fledge or fludge — you don’t get to decide which one you’re watching on any given day. You just get to decide how you show up for it.
And here’s the other thing nobody tells you — the fludge is not the tragedy we think it is in the moment. Sandy and Luna do not stay on that branch forever. They shake it off, they climb back up, and they jump again. And again. Nobody’s pulling them from the nest. Nobody’s benching them for the season. The whole system is built on the assumption that they’re going to flub it a bunch of times before they ever really fly.
I’ve started asking myself, on the mornings I sit down with my coffee and do my little visioning practice: am I hoping for a fledge today, or am I making room for a fludge?
Because if I’m honest, most of the growth I’ve watched in my own kids — on the field, in the classroom, in life — came right after the ugliest, most awkward fludge of a moment. Not the highlight reel. The face-plant. Watch this space- we’re doing in this in real time over here!
If you need a shoulder to cry on or want to compare notes, hit me up. I’ve got dozens. And that’s just this week. Heck, probably even enough for another book. Anyone?
So this weekend, when your kid jumps and it does not go the way either of you pictured it in the driveway on the way over — I’d invite you to just watch. Don’t fix it from the sidelines. Don’t relitigate it in the car. Let it be a fludge. It’s allowed. It’s actually the whole point.
Sandy and Luna will jump again tomorrow. So will your kid.
Xxx
Kir