It’s not my fault. I wasn’t raised playing sports. In fact, as a child, my most athletic endeavor was to take a nap while my father watched Redskins football on TV. As I got older, I did occasionally go outside to play a challenging game of kickball or hopscotch. I would even walk my dog around the block, but not so much for the exercise as much in hopes that that cute Dale Ivey would be hanging out on his porch.

So you can imagine my surprise when xx years later, I find myself in a family that lives and breathes sports. That, as most things where blame can be assigned, is my husband’s fault. He was a born athlete and shared his love of sports with our kids when they were young. Blessed with his DNA, they loved it too. Over time, we’ve found ourselves parents of athletes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to be set for life because my high schooler leaps directly into the NBA. But my boys have good hands, good instincts, and a good understanding of the intricacies of the games they play. What they don’t always have, however, is motivation.

And that drives my husband crazy. “When I was your age,” he begins, and we envision him walking barefoot through the snow to get to the basketball court or baseball field 10 miles away. But I get his point. If you want to get better at anything, you have to work at it. That means practicing on your own, in addition to the team practices. It means that if you want to pitch for your baseball team, you have to throw every day. If you want to master clutch free throws, you have to shoot them regularly.

Some kids get it. Our kids don’t. And while it’s easy to say that they are easily distracted by TV and electronics, if they really wanted to get better, they would.

We offer them opportunity. “Want to go play tennis?” I’ll ask. “It’s too hot,” one will say. “I’m tired,” another will say at 10 a.m.

“Want to go to the batting cage?” Bryan will ask them. “Naw,” will come the response. “I’m good.”

Occasionally they do ask for help. “When can we go to Grand Slam?” my youngest son asked me recently. “Call and see what hours they are open,” I advised, wanting him to make an effort. Never got an answer from him.

They have a tee to swing off of, a pitch back net thingy to help them throw, a basketball hoop, sporting equipment and best of all, each other to practice with.

So my question is, how much do I push? Do I force my kids to pursue something that they have a talent and interest in, but not the dedication? Do I let shortsighted laziness cause them to later regret that they did not achieve more?

Or do I pull back, and let them make their own decisions? Sports are not an essential. They do their schoolwork—(some more than others). They’re funny, intelligent, thoughtful, good kids. Maybe working hard enough to be just okay in their athletic lives is satisfying enough for them.

But I don’t really believe it. My father used to say: “More is expected of those who can do more,” and yes, I used to sigh and roll my eyes when he said it. But he meant that if you have the ability, you are then compelled to do everything you can with it. That holds true for school, sports and life. If you don’t have the ability, that’s different. If your interests truly lie in another area, that’s different too.

As a sports mom, I’ve come to see that how much you are willing to work-- on and off --the field (feel free to substitute dance floor, recital room, artist studio, math class, etc.) reflects how much you are willing to pursue the goals in the rest of your life. Just getting by, just skating through, is a prescription for a life of regret.

So I will continue to push my kids to do more. Because they can.

Pamela appears Tuesdays on TriangleMom2Mom. Read more about Pamela on her blog Crazy is My Life.