The other day my wife asked me this question she came across in a parenting book: “How do you want your kids to describe you?” Any guesses how I answered this question? The world’s greatest dad? Super funny and cool? The best looking old fogey dad I could be since I’m the age of a lot kids my daughters’ ages’ grandparents? These are all good guesses. And the answer I gave my wife to this question is… “I don’t really care. Are they good people?” See the difference between these answers? To me, parents should never be asking a question like how do you want your kids to describe you? Who cares what my kids think of me? Did I do my job to raise them to be good people? If I did, they’re going to love and respect me in some way. If they’re garbage people and they claim I was an excellent parent, should I believe that? If my kids are garbage people, their opinion is garbage and I was garbage. If they’re garbage people, I now have to figure out if there’s something I need to do to help the situation or let them fall on their face hoping they’ll smarten up because a good parent knows sometimes you need to step in and help and other times you need to stand back and let them figure it out on their own.
Growing up, there were many times I thought my dad was mean – that’s normal. There should be times I thought he was mean because that meant he was doing his job to teach me not to be a selfish, entitled boob. When a parent says no to their kids or tell them to do something they don’t want to do, the kids will naturally think the parent is mean because they’re in the way of the kids getting what they want. That’s why a good parent’s goal should be to make the child a better person, and not to always make them happy. It’s great seeing your kids excited, but those are meant to be for special occasions. That being claimed, I’m sure there were times my dad was meaner than necessary because he was tired and/or stressed. Why? Because we all have those moments. We all have times we’re not the best versions of ourselves. The important thing is I can look back and be thankful for how he raised me because in the big picture he did an excellent job (is that bragging?) Even if my dad did things I would’ve done differently, it doesn’t matter because the end goal was achieved. All three of his kids are successful in their own right and strong contributors to society with a healthy respect and care for others – how can anyone fault him for his achievement?
Side Thought: The one thing I think my dad should’ve done differently was to make time to be with each of his three kids individually. This isn’t a criticism, but more about being realistic. Even if it was to individually take us out for breakfast or a hike a couple times a year because that could’ve helped hiskids be more emotionally connected to him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something his generation of men really thought about. He was raised in a time where dads were more concerned about being a good provider financially, morally, and education wise. In those things, he was excellent. He provided things for my siblings and I like a pool we could share with friends and we’d always have a ride to get to things like hockey, youth group, and work. When we were old enough we even had a car to get us to work and university. My dad sacrificed a lot of his own pleasures in order to provide opportunities for his kids, which is something young people don’t typically appreciate until they’re older and paying for things themselves.
My wife’s original concern about how our kids would describe her goes back to her greater need for compliments. The problem with compliments is it goes back to my problem with words – they’re fickle. For instance, how do you really know which of the following a compliment lands:
- A genuine observation
- A manipulation tool.
- A moment’s thought that can change later.
- An emotional response that’s more a feeling than true.
- A way to impress someone whether the receiver or someone else.
- A way to hide something.
- A way to be given a compliment in return.
Being told I’m the world’s greatest dad means nothing to me. I want action. I want my kids to obey me when I tell them to do something while also having times when they feel safe enough to laugh and joke with me. Don’t just say I’m a good parent; prove it by being a good person.
So what is better than others complimenting us? Complimenting ourselves (i.e. acknowledging the truth about us). It’s not arrogance; it’s focusing on facts. One of the best tools for this is to write down a compliment for ourselves every day. I started this over a decade ago. It was hard at first, but if I can’t compliment myself, why should I expect anyone else to compliment me? If I can’t compliment myself, how am I going to accept a compliment someone else gives me? If I can’t compliment myself, how am I going to know how to compliment others? Daily complimenting myself gives me practice at complimenting the little things I do that I often take for granted or somehow miss. For instance, as someone who’s never had a time I didn’t regularly brush my teeth, I can take it for granted that I have good hygiene habits, but then I meet people who drink juice right before bed (the worst thing you can do to your teeth) or they’re lucky to brush their teeth once a day and then I realize I can compliment myself for this important habit (and thank my parents for making it a routine).
Another valuable exercise is simply writing a list of why someone should be married to you. When I do this with clients I ask for seven things and then I help them get 20. One couple I worked with came back with 50 things each. We need to see our value based on recognizing what’s true. It’s not arrogance; it’s self awareness. Arrogance is rubbing your strengths into others people’s faces. This is simply acknowledging our strengths in order to have better self esteem. It can also be a way to praise God for helping you be who you are and open the door for discovering how you can grow.
This week may you consider what’s good about yourself in order to be better at seeing what’s good about others.
Rev. Chad David, ChadDavid.ca, learning to love dumb people (like me)
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