I see so many families today running themselves to death by running from lessons to practices for their kids.

I remember those days. Nobody I know was given more opportunity to have talent than I was.

My mother is a naturally talented woman whether she wants to admit it or not. She is graceful and driven.

When she was younger she was one of “those” women: She twirled a baton for the band, she was a cheerleader, a great dancer, a homecoming candidate, a fast runner and athletic. She is also artistic and extremely creative and smart, and she accomplished all this naturally, with no lessons or training, throughout high school, college and life.

When my mother had me, I’m sure she thought all her natural-born ability, if coupled with some proper training, would produce someone extremely talented. I am sure she looked at me at birth and dreamed golden dreams.

Soon though, her reality set in and for that I feel for her and the thousands of dollars gone with it.

The first lessons I remember were dance lessons. I took tap and ballet. I remember taking lessons at a woman’s house in Nevada. She sat and played the piano and my friend Jill Hedges and I would dance. I think Jill’s mom had the same dreams for her as she was my sidekick in many of these lessons.

I don’t recall a lot about these dance lessons, other than the Susie Snowflake tutu costume I got to wear at the recital. Years later my dad was showing off a deer hunting film to a bunch of guys and at the end you cut to me in the costume dancing in circles.

Let’s just say you can put a $50 tutu on a little girl but it sure doesn’t buy her any grace or talent. My mom must have seen this too, so let’s move on to my next dance teacher.

I took classes at Cottey College and I think the teacher’s name was Betty, but all I got out of that was she smoked. Yes, during class and, as she yelled out positions, she kept the cigarette in her mouth dangling from her bottom lip.

Dance lessons went on for years for me, and although I can’t recall a single position in dance, I know anytime I see anyone try to talk with a cigarette stuck to the inside of her bottom lip, I freak.

OK, so I couldn’t dance, but mom was persistent, so let’s try the piano.

Mom went out and bought me a beautiful piano. I had three different teachers, and today I can play the heck out of Chopsticks.

I think in general music wasn’t my thing. I was also dead last chair in junior high band with my saxophone and a music teacher asked me not to sing so loud since I was no good.

My mother still had hope. Gymnastics! Let’s take one of the tallest, most uncoordinated girls in my class and stick her in gymnastics.

Again, with my buddy Jill Hedges by my side, we started in Kim Hartsfield’s back yard on a mattress. Kim was a great gymnast, and to her credit I can still do a cartwheel. My mom probably paid $1,000 for that ability.

Did the lessons stop there? No. She bought Jill and me a baton and sent us to Lissa Emery for twirling lessons.

We were in a parade or two, and I remember my baton rolling under the Shriner’s car in front of us. I think I hit Jill on the head with my baton a few times too, but she was pretty easygoing and we were just glad we didn’t have to endure these lessons alone.

Don’t think I wasn’t given the opportunity to try every sport, either. I was slightly more talented athletically, but not much. Basketball, softball, golf, swimming — I participated in them all. Again, no world records, but a lot of laughs and fun.

Academics for me? Unless the high school lost my invitation to join the National Honor Society, let’s just say that didn’t work out for me either.

I’d like to look back at all those B grades as meaning “Brilliant” and the C grades as “Coming along.” The couple of D’s … how about “Determined”?

I often hoped I hadn’t disappointed my mom. I really did try, but here’s what to remember. If you enroll your child in a class, realize it may just be for a little exposure and fun.

Years of piano won’t ensure a great pianist, and all the gymnastics lessons in the world won’t give your child a spot on the U.S. Gymnastics team — they may never even master a back handspring that looks any better than a little frog. Most kids on the little league fields will never make it onto a professional sports team.

Did all those lessons make me a little more rounded? Maybe so, but some of us aren’t meant to be extraordinary. Just ordinary, with some great exposure and a lot to look back on and laugh at.