This post is part of a multipart series. I recommend first reading Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.
(Apologies for the delay between posts. I got sidetracked by end-of-the-semester shenanigans.)
Recall that this series documents a meditation. While running five Penalty Laps on my 50th birthday, I directed the focus of each lap to a different decade of life. The aim was to identify the event in that decade with the most significant influence on the person I am today. This is quite different from listing out my biggest achievements or the things I'm most proud of. For most decades, that would be an entirely different exercise.
But for my 30s, there's no daylight between the two concepts. 2.16.2010 and 12.1.2011. On those days, Ainslie and Charlotte were born. Parenthood transforms you. Hence the many clichés about it, most of which happen to be true. I don't have any particularly novel parenting insights, but my experience so far has taught me to:
Show up: When my kids reflect on their dad, they'll have plenty to criticize. But they won't be able to say I wasn't around. One of the best aspects of my job is its flexibility. This allows me to be on point in the mornings and around after school and during bedtimes. My parenting instincts are fair at best, but showing up is important, and I do my best to do it.
Repair: Parenting seems to be all about learning from your mistakes. It's a constant process of trying something, failing, and then trying something else. This process involves injury—hurt feelings, anger, betrayal, big emotions. The kids taught me how to apologize and mean it. To not say "but" after "I'm sorry." They don't care, and it doesn't matter. Together we co-created a beautiful cycle of injury and repair, resulting in trust. We'll no doubt test this trust as we age and the challenges grow more complex. But my hope is that we share a sense of safety in our mistakes.
Curate Hardship: When Ainslie was born, a good friend told me to pay attention to how the nurses handled her. "Babies are more durable than you think." We're led to believe that our job as parents is to protect our kids. That's not wrong, but it's not right either. Framing the job as protection can get us into trouble. This mindset leads to coddling, helicopter parenting, everyone-gets-a-blue-ribbon stuff. Instead, the job is to dose hardship. It's our responsibility to thoughtfully expose our kids to stress and give them the tools to adapt.
These three concepts work together, and they might even compound. Showing up makes the work of injury and repair easier, or at least much more difficult to avoid. The injury and repair process is a form of necessary hardship. Perfect parenting isn't possible, nor is it desirable. When our kids see our flaws, they learn we are human. When we own those flaws yet love unconditionally, the kids trust that we will show up. The cycle repeats, never the same and never without speed bumps.